


Wakashudo: The Way of Youth

by maybe77



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Pederasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe77/pseuds/maybe77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam is a samurai in turn-of-the-17th century Japan. Tommy becomes his apprentice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wakashudo: The Way of Youth

**Chapter 1**

Tommy had always dreamed of becoming a great samurai warrior, since he was old enough to pick up tree-branch swords in the meadow and mock-battle the children from neighboring farms. Samurai were brave, loyal, fierce, strong. Tommy was not these things, but, if he were a samurai, maybe he could be.

A few days before Tommy turned nine years of age, his father asked him what gift he might like for his birthday, “now that you are nearly a man?”

“I want to be a samurai,” Tommy had said, and waited with the naïve hopefulness of youth for his father to concede. Instead, his father told him one could not simply become a samurai. There were bloodlines to be followed and traditions to be upheld, and the son of a rice farmer was destined for a different path. Tommy’s birthday gift was a sturdy new pair of boots to wear in the paddies.

After that day, Tommy put aside his dream and set his mind to inheriting the farm and working the land like his father and his father’s father. _This is what I was born for,_ he told himself. _What do I know of swords and battle?_

He still pretended with his friends, but with little heart in it; it was too much to make himself believe a tree branch to be a katana. In the evenings, he paid closer attention when his father talked about the crops during the evening meal. 

Then, shortly after Tommy’s twelfth birthday, that which he thought beyond his reach was suddenly laid at his feet.

A few months prior, Tommy’s father had done a great service for the local feudal lord, the _daimyo_. Though the civil wars that had torn through Japan for the past 150 years were over, many small groups remained disgruntled with the rule of the new Shogun, Ieyasu Tokugawa. The monks of the nearby Buddhist temple were one such faction of malcontents, angered that the Shogun’s military power marginalized the god-given influence the monks wielded over the commoners. 

The monks had approached Tommy’s father, who owned the most expansive rice paddies in the daimyo’s lands, and as such held no small amount of sway. The monks would reward him with land and gold if he helped convince the other farmers to join their revolt. Instead of siding with them, Tommy’s father betrayed the monks to the daimyo, Lord Lambert, who sent his son to dispatch the leaders of their rebellion. 

“I do not care to join the monk’s skirmishes over power,” Tommy’s father had told him as they sat around the hearth. “I swore my fealty to Lord Lambert many years ago, and I will not dishonor my family by betraying that oath.”

Tommy was young, but he knew his father’s actions were to be admired. He had chosen honor and loyalty over profit. Even as pride in his father bloomed in his chest, in secret Tommy hoped to never face such a difficult choice when this farm one day was his. In truth, he preferred helping his mother cook to weighing decisions of politics. Further evidence, he thought, of why he was not born a warrior. 

But, when Lord Lambert arrived to reward Tommy’s father for his loyalty, Tommy learned that birthright was not the only way to become a samurai.

Tommy’s family would receive two horses, twenty chickens and would be exempt from paying taxes and tributes for five years. Lord Lambert’s most generous gift, however, was for Tommy himself: the daimyo’s son was a full-fledged samurai, and was ready for an apprentice. 

“Your family is strong and honorable,” Lord Lambert had said to Tommy’s father. “Your son is of age to begin apprenticeship. He would make an excellent warrior.”

Tommy’s father fell to his knees in front Lord Lambert as Tommy watched, nervous and trembling with disbelief. “My son is clever and strong and loyal,” Tommy’s father said as he bowed low to the daimyo, his face nearly touching the floor. “It will be a great honor to my family to apprentice him to your son.”

Tommy froze. He wanted to flee, or protest, tell them they were wrong about him, that he simply _could not_ … But before he was able to speak up, Tommy’s father called him over to introduce him to the daimyo. The man’s intense gray eyes studied him, weighing him the way a farmer could weigh a pound of rice, by sight alone. “Lithe,” the daimyo had said as Tommy tried his best to hide his fear and doubt and remain still under Lord Lambert’s scrutiny. “Diffident. He will make a very interesting counterpoint to my son. Bring him to the castle tomorrow.”

Tommy slept little that night, and when day broke his pillow was still damp with tears.

In the morning Tommy’s father saddled the two horses they had received from the daimyo. “Come, Tommy, your service to Lord Lambert’s son begins today. Keep in mind the route, you will have to ride back on your own tonight.” Tommy had traveled to the daimyo’s castle before, even farther than that, but he had never ridden such a distance alone. It was one more uncertainty to add to the cloud of doubt in his mind as they rode south. 

His father was quiet for most of the ride. The castle had already risen up above the treetops before he spoke. “You begin by serving on the daimyo’s estate. You will go to the castle every morning and return home every evening. The daimyo’s son will give you duties to perform, and in doing so he will begin training your body and your mind long before you are taught to wield a sword.”

When they arrived at the castle, the daimyo’s son was waiting at the gates. Tommy’s father dismounted his horse, and Tommy followed suit. “Master Lambert, this is my son, Thomas. I present him to begin his service as your apprentice. Will you have him?”

Tommy looked up, close enough now that the castle was blocking the morning sun and he could see in vivid detail the warrior, larger-than-life, towering over him. Tommy had only seen a samurai fully outfitted in his armor once before, when Lord Lambert had returned home victorious from fighting alongside Lord Tokugawa at Sekigahara, the last great battle to unite Japan. Tommy had been only six years old then, watching from afar as the daimyo marched through the prefecture with his full retinue. 

Now, this samurai loomed above him, looking down from underneath his black iron helmet, the thin metal covered over by elaborate brocade fabric in black with gold and red cranes. He seemed otherworldly, almost a demon, with his father’s intense gray eyes and his helmet topped with curved gold horns. The cuirass, the skirt and the shin protectors were fashioned of iron slats woven together with red cording, and decorated over with various silken and metal ornaments and adornments that Tommy could not begin to guess the meaning or origin of. 

But for all the decoration and massiveness of the armor and the man, Tommy could not tear his eyes from the swords. Master Lambert had both his long and short swords fastened to his belt, in customary samurai fashion. The hilt of the long _katana_ was a smooth and polished ivory; the hilt of the dagger-like _wakizashi_ was shaped identically, but it looked forged of pure gold. He wondered how many men those blades had slain, how the steel looked coated in thick drying blood. He swallowed over the lump in his throat and prayed that he was not shaking so much they could see.

The daimyo’s son knelt before Tommy and studied him. He reached out and gently grasped Tommy’s chin, turned his face to the side and then back so their eyes met. In his entire life Tommy had never been so awestruck nor so frightened. He blushed and dropped his gaze. 

“Your son, he seems to come from weak stock,” the daimyo’s son said dismissively, as though Tommy were some head of livestock up for barter. 

The samurai’s words set off an anger that burned through Tommy’s fear. He jumped back and locked eyes with the samurai, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched. “Begging your pardon, Master Lambert, but my father is a strong man and it is disrespectful of you to say otherwise.”

“Thomas!” his father barked, but Master Lambert merely laughed and stood, brushing the dust from his knee. He looked at Tommy as he spoke.

“Perhaps I was wrong, Thomas. You seem spirited indeed, and quite loyal.” He turned to face Tommy’s father. “Very well, I accept your son as my apprentice.”

They both turned to Tommy, whose indignation had faded into confusion. But they were staring at him and he panicked for a moment before he remembered what he was meant to do. He dropped to both knees and bowed low before the daimyo’s son. “It brings me great honor to swear my fealty to you, Master.”

The daimyo’s son bade Tommy rise. The formalities were complete. The men spoke for a few moments as Tommy waited nervously, shuffling in the dust and pretending to study the stone foundation of the castle. 

It was a modest castle, only three stories; no more was needed. Perched in the foothills of the mountains, the fortress’s north and east sides bordered on nearly impenetrable rocky terrain. The fortress had been built a century ago during the civil wars, when the feudal lords routinely attacked one another to gain land and power. Now that nearly all of Japan was unified and at peace under the rule of Shogun Tokugawa, the castle seemed more like a mountain retreat. Its plaster walls were barely scarred; in the six years since Sekigahara, there had been not a single attack.

Tommy’s father bowed one last time and turned to mount his horse. “Thomas, you are on your way to becoming a great samurai. I know you will make me proud.”

“Father,” Tommy pleaded, panic welling in him at the thought of being left with this terrifying man. He did not want to stay here. He could not do this. He was no samurai. All these words were on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the way his father smiled at him, he swallowed them down; he could not bear to disappoint him.

“Thomas,” his father said more firmly, and came to put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You are braver and stronger than you realize. They will not be unkind to you here. You will make me proud, my son, I am sure of it.”

Tommy summoned his courage, squared his shoulders and nodded resolutely. “Yes, father,” he said, surprised at how confident he sounded to his own ears. He watched his father swing up into the saddle and turn his horse, watched it trot a hundred yards down the trail before he turned back to Master Lambert with his best brave face.

He was surprised to see that the daimyo’s son had removed his helmet and now, with the sun full on his face, he looked much kinder, and younger as well. Though his iron armor was still hulking and impressive, he struck a much less imposing figure. His blue eyes were more like sky than ice. “Thomas,” he said, “I did not mean to insult your father. I wanted to test you. The great warrior Takeda Shingen once said, ‘Everyone knows that if a man does not hold filial piety toward his own parents he would also neglect his duties toward his lord.’”

Tommy did not understand, but Master Lambert looked like he was waiting for Tommy to say something. “Yes, my lord,” was all he could think to respond. His mother had told him last night: “If you are frightened, darling, just say ‘yes, my lord,’ and bow your head.” Tommy missed his mother right now, wished he was at home helping her tend the garden or carry water from the well. 

“You need not call me ‘lord,’” the daimyo’s son said as he headed toward the wide gateway of the castle. “You should call me _sensei_. Come, bring your horse, we will take it to the stable.”

Tommy had never been inside the castle gate before, and he marveled at the expanse of the courtyard. A thousand men at least could fit inside the outer yard, surrounded by battlement walls nearly ten feet tall. In the south corner were the stables, with stalls for at least a dozen horses. 

As they headed in that direction, a boy of about fifteen approached. “My lord,” he said, bowing low to the daimyo’s son. 

Master Lambert stopped and nodded toward Tommy. “Shiro, this is Thomas. He is my new apprentice. Stable his horse and show him around the courtyard. Take him to the afternoon meal, then put him to work grooming the horses. I will come collect him later.”

Tommy stood blinking for a minute, feeling like a despised chore — scrubbing the hearth or mucking the stables — delegated for someone else to see to. This was not what he had expected, but he felt helpless to argue. “As you wish, sensei,” he said as he watched Master Lambert walk toward the castle. How he could feel abandoned by a man he barely knew?

“Have you never met Master Lambert before?” Shiro asked. Tommy shook his head, still watching where his sensei disappeared inside, a stranger leaving him to yet another stranger. Everything around him was foreign, and he did not know his purpose here.

“No,” Tommy said quietly. “I have never met any samurai before.”

Shiro laughed, a surprising sound, and patted Tommy on the shoulder. “Master Lambert may be a great samurai, but he is also a man. Respect him, but do not be too much in awe of him, or you will never be his equal one day.” Tommy finally turned and was about to protest — about to ask, “How could I ever be his equal?” with some insistence — when Shiro went on. “Thomas, do you care for horses on your farm?”

“No,” Tommy answered, ashamed for it. “Before Lord Lambert so generously gifted two horses to my father yesterday, we had only two others. My father cared for those himself because they were, he said, the most valuable equipment on the farm. I helped him groom them, but that was all.”

“Your father is wise, Thomas. But you must learn. Much like the farmer, a samurai’s most valuable tool is his horse. More valuable than his sword, I dare say. I can teach you how to take care of your horse, and how to talk with your horse. He can tell you much about the terrain, the weather, help you find water, gauge how close your enemies are — if you know how to listen.”

Tommy’s eyes grew wide. “You will teach me all that? In one day?”

Shiro laughed again. “Thomas, I believe Master Lambert intends to leave you in my care for quite some time.”

Shiro was very kind, Tommy had to admit. He knew much about horses and was far less intimidating than Master Lambert. Perhaps Tommy could survive this for now, learning to care for horses under the tutelage of the stable boy. The prospect was far less daunting than becoming a samurai.

The morning went fast. Master Lambert had taken a long ride the previous day through some rough terrain; his horse was road-weary and had several abrasions on his legs and flank. “If you are out on a campaign for a long time, you will need to treat injuries like these right away,” Shiro explained. “Otherwise they may become infected, and you could lose your horse.”

As he worked, Tommy tried hard to soak in everything he was learning. Master Lambert would eventually decide Tommy was too timid and too inexperienced to be a samurai, but he should take the opportunity to learn what he could. He might at least use these new skills to be of more help on his father’s farm. Somewhere inside him, too, a voice spoke, sounding much like his younger self. _There was a time you would have given anything for this_ , it said to him, chastising and impatient. _You might make a better samurai than you think_. 

By lunchtime, he felt as though everything had been wrung out of him. They washed up and ate, and Shiro introduced him to several other servants. One of them Tommy knew, a young girl not much older than he. Her father traded fruit for the rice Tommy’s father grew. When she was younger she would travel with him, and she and Tommy would play in the garden together while their fathers bartered. 

“Misa, hello,” Tommy said brightly, relieved to see a familiar face even though it had been quite some time since their last meeting. 

“Tommy! Look how much you have grown! A whole foot taller I think!” Tommy blushed, and could not but notice that Misa had changed too, the bodice of her dress tighter than he remembered. “What are you doing here?” she asked, squeezing his arm before stepping back demurely.

“I have been apprenticed to Master Lambert,” he said, trying to sound as proud as he knew he should be. “Lord Lambert granted my family this generous opportunity as thanks for my father’s help with the rebellious monks at the temple. I am going to become a samurai.”

“Thomas, that is wonderful news,” she said formally, as though she had realized the lack of propriety in how familiar she had been with him. “Lord Lambert is indeed most kind. In exchange for my service here, he charges my father much lower taxes on his land. In the year that I have been here, my father has been able to prosper greatly.”

When she was called away by one of the kitchen servants, Tommy watched her hurry off before he turned back to the table where Shiro and the other stable hands were eating.

After the meal they returned to the stable. As the day wore on Tommy began to wonder if he had been forgotten, or worse, abandoned. Perhaps Master Lambert had already decided he was too weak. Perhaps he was just going to get a full day’s work out of Tommy before sending him home with no need to return. He might even send another servant to deliver the verdict rather than waste his own valuable time. Tommy grew more and more sullen; each time someone passed he would look up, but it was not his sensei. 

He kept himself busy, swearing that no matter what Master Lambert decided, he would work hard and give no further reason to look poorly on him or his family. When he asked for yet another task, Shiro sent him to fetch water for the horses on his own. He filled the bucket at the cistern and crossed the courtyard back toward the stables, his steps labored with the weight of the water. His eyes were on the ground and his face was red with exertion when he heard his name called. He looked up to see Master Lambert waiting for him by his horse.

“Thomas, Shiro tells me you have worked hard today. Come, I think you have done enough. I will escort you down the hillside at least, as I know the route home is not yet familiar to you.”

Tommy bowed low and was glad for the custom, so as to hide from his the surge of happiness that surely showed on his face, and the swell of relief in his belly. His fretting was all but forgotten at the prospect of Master Lambert riding with him. “Ready our horses, Thomas. I will wait by the gate.” 

Tommy worked quickly to saddle both horses, forgetting for a moment his self-doubt. Shiro came to inspect Tommy’s handiwork, adjusting the reins a little and nodding to Tommy when he was done. Master Lambert looked over his horse and gave Tommy a wide smile as he mounted. They had ridden about a quarter mile at a rather slow pace when Master Lambert, who had been just ahead, dropped back to ride abreast. “Tell me, Thomas, how was your day?”

“I learned much about horses from Shiro, sensei. He is very knowledgeable.”

“Good,” Master Lambert said. “I want you to work with Shiro for now. After he teaches you about caring for your horse, he can also teach you riding skills. In exchange, you will help him perform his duties in the stable. The labor will help make your body strong.”

Indeed, Tommy’s body ached. He was used to helping around the farm at home, but his father or the older farm hands often handled the more strenuous tasks. Shiro put him straight to work, and was simply patient when Tommy’s limited strength meant it took much longer to carry water or lift a saddle. Shiro was a good teacher, but Tommy was still dejected that Master Lambert would not be training him.

“You are quiet, Thomas. Does something trouble you?”

Tommy was too tired for caution, it seemed, because he answered the question honestly. “I’m sorry, sensei. I know nothing of the ways of samurai training, but I was hoping you would be the one to teach me.” 

Master Lambert smiled at him, cocking his head a little. “I am sorry, Thomas. But samurai do much more than fight. I serve my lord in many different capacities and, as the daimyo’s son I, more than any other samurai, am responsible for the safety and prosperity of this territory. Today, for example, I helped to negotiate a border dispute between two farmers on the southern end of the prefecture.”

Tommy had seen the two farmers arrive. They wore brighter clothing than was common in the village, but the southern end of the prefecture was closer to Kyoto and the influence of the city was much stronger there. In fact, over the course of the day Tommy had seen many people come and go from the castle. The daimyo governed this land and the people in it. As his son, Master Lambert surely carried some of that responsibility. 

“Do not worry, Thomas, I am not always so preoccupied with administrative duties. And in due time, you will join me and learn to manage such affairs as well. For now, however, you should start with the basics.”

“I have much to learn,” Tommy said meekly, feeling out of his depth all over again.

“Bushido, the way of the samurai, is aspiration to an ideal, Thomas. We all begin somewhere, and the journey only ends when we die. A samurai always has much to learn.”

Master Lambert drew up his horse then, and Tommy stopped alongside him. “I must return to the castle, Thomas. When you arrive in the morning, take your horse and go straight to Shiro. I will find you in the stable when I can.”

Tommy bowed and bid his sensei goodnight. They had covered well over half the distance back to Tommy’s farm; he rode alone for only a few leagues before the low stone wall around the farmhouse came into sight, and he could smell food cooking and see smoke rising from the chimney.

He stabled his horse himself, politely dismissing the offers of help from the farmhands. He came into the house, leaving his shoes, which were filthy, outside. “Thomas!” his mother exclaimed, rushing to him and kissing his cheek though he was covered in grime. “You smell like a stable! Is Master Lambert working you too hard on your first day?”

“No work is too hard for a samurai,” came Tommy’s father’s voice from the doorway. His face lit up as he came in to greet his son. “I see that you stabled your own horse, son. You are learning much already.”

“Yes, father, very much. Master Lambert is very wise.” Tommy’s day had been strenuous, and more than a little terrifying at times, but he had survived — even returned with new knowledge — and the pride on his father’s face made his endurance worth the effort. 

Tommy washed up, ate the evening meal with his family and then retired to bed though it was still quite early. His father offered to clean up after the meal, which was customarily Tommy’s chore. “You have had a busy day, and tomorrow will be another,” his father said in a rare, kindly tone. He tousled Tommy’s hair before sending him off. “Rest well so you are fresh in the morning for your training.”

  


**Chapter 2**

“I do not need an apprentice, father! I am a samurai. My duty is to fight battles, not babysit some farmboy.” Adam was curt and open; he knew it was disrespectful to speak to his father — his lord, the daimyo — in this manner, but the specter of this had been a long-simmering source of dread to him, enough so that he was willing to speak his mind. 

“Adam, do not see this as a burden. You are yet young, and have many lessons still to learn. You have learned well to fight, to lead in battle, but those skills alone do not make one great. They are not enough to mold you into a daimyo fit to rule this land when one day I am gone.” 

Adam started to protest, but his father held up a hand to silence him. “Son, the peace that Lord Tokugawa has brought to Japan means that samurai must prove their worth beyond the battlefield, in matters social and political. That takes empathy, patience, prudence and wisdom. An apprentice will help you learn those skills.”

Adam could not argue. He _was_ young, just past his twenty-first year, and one day he would inherit lordship of this territory. The old ways of feudalism, the ways upon which the samurai thrived, were beginning to crumble, he was aware. But he failed to see how a child stumbling after him all day had anything to do with that. 

“Father, I do not see how…”

“Enough,” his father said, finally losing patience enough to raise his voice. “The boy will be here two days hence. I suggest you begin considering what you will do with him.” With that, the daimyo turned on his heel, leaving Adam to stare after him as he stormed down the hall.

That night, after it grew dark and most of the torches were extinguished, Adam climbed up to the uppermost parapet of the castle, from which he could see for miles the hilly lands of his father’s territory, lands that would one day be his. Fifty years ago this prefecture was perennially under siege. During the era of civil war this land was highly coveted — a mountain stronghold whose southern borders were not far from Kyoto. Now that the country was no longer torn apart by war, now that Lord Tokugawa had moved the nation’s capital to Edo, Lord Lambert’s lands and his samurai son no longer seemed as relevant. 

Adam thought back to what his father had told him, that he would need patience and prudence to succeed in this new era. These qualities, he acknowledged, eluded him, just out of reach like a clever rabbit. His own sensei had not been a cautious man. “Hesitation is another word for fear,” Master Nakata had told Adam long ago, not far into Adam’s own apprenticeship. Master Nakata taught him to strike first and seize every advantage. Fear is not the way of the samurai. 

Adam remembered his first tea ceremony with his sensei. The scroll on the wall, which customarily displayed a saying appropriate for the occasion, read with a quotation from the great warrior Nabeshima Naoshige. “The way of the Samurai is in desperateness. Ten men or more cannot kill such a man.”

Adam embraced that philosophy all the more ruthlessly when his sensei was killed in battle two years ago. It had been less than a year since Adam’s coming of age; when he turned 18 he became a full samurai himself. He returned to his father’s castle a far stronger and more confident warrior, but after nearly eight years with Master Nakata, after learning all Nakata could teach him about honor and bushido and loyalty, Adam felt he had left a piece of himself behind. The news of Nakata’s death had been crushing, and for weeks after Adam choked on the guilt of not being at his master’s side to embrace the same fate. Adam swore that day that he, too, would die with honor, just as his sensei had. He would never show hesitation. He would not be afraid. He had nothing to lose.

The day after Nakata’s funeral, Adam mounted his horse and rode to Edo, where Lord Tokugawa had just been named Shogun. He begged Tokugawa’s generals to send him out to fight, and they were happy to agree. He spent a year in the Western prefectures, fighting back rebels who did not want to acknowledge the new Shogunate. There Adam developed a reputation for his decisiveness and, to some, recklessness. When he could find no more rebels to subjugate, he returned to Edo. The Shogun had heard word of his fierceness in battle and presented him with two swords, their hilts of carved ivory and forged gold. They were his most prized possessions.

On that day, not so long ago, Adam stood as the Shogun himself praised his bravery. And yet here he was, hesitating over a boy. To others he would complain that he did not want to be held back, that an apprentice would get in his way. Standing up here, at the top of the castle looking out over the moonlit fields and sparkling lakes of his father’s domain, Adam acknowledged to himself the true reason. The pain of losing his sensei was still with him, and though it grew duller and less intrusive, the wound retained a freshness that had not faded. Adam would now be the sensei, rather than the apprentice, but he knew the vulnerability such a relationship engendered. It was a weakness he was unwilling to suffer again.

When he lost Master Nakata, he lost more than just his teacher. There were only two things in the world that inspired passion in him: bushido, and his sensei. He did not believe he was capable of giving someone else what Master Nakata had given him. It was a selfish sentiment, but he did not even want to try.

The following morning Adam decided to take a long ride in the countryside to clear his head and strategize, much as he would on the eve of a battle. In the stable, Shiro readied his horse and asked his destination. “I need to think, Shiro,” Adam answered. “In the morning my apprentice will arrive. He is young, only twelve. He will have much to learn. I must decide where to start.”

“I hope he is well-versed in the care of horses, my lord,” Shiro replied. “A good samurai is nothing without his horse.”

Adam laughed and mounted his horse. “Perhaps I will have you teach him, Shiro. I know of no better expert in horses.”

Shiro waved as he headed off, but the idea stayed with Adam. Shiro was younger, so the apprentice might feel more comfortable around him. And Shiro certainly knew much about horses; he had even taught Adam a few new skills. Besides, with all the administrative duties his father had given him recently, there was no way Adam could spend all his time with the boy. It was a delightfully simple solution. The boy would learn things he needed to know, and Adam could ease into this more slowly, see what the boy was like so he could decide how to handle him. Maybe find a way out of this whole arrangement…

Adam continued on his ride, confident in his strategy. He would be kind yet somewhat aloof to start. He would gauge the boy’s capabilities. Shiro could spend at least a month with him, and that would give Adam plenty of time. He thought of Master Nakata again, and wondered if he would consider Adam’s plan to be hesitation. _But my instincts tell me to take my time with this_ , he thought. _There is no need for haste_.

He returned to the castle in the early afternoon and told Shiro of his plan. “I am happy to be of service and show your apprentice what I know,” Shiro said. “It will be an honor to teach a boy who will one day be a great samurai.”

“How do you know he will be a great samurai, Shiro?”

“Because you are his teacher, my lord.”

  


The next morning two servants helped Adam into his armor for the meeting with his new apprentice. He was trying to keep his nervousness at bay but it sped him up, and he was ready and waiting by the gates early, wondering what to expect in this boy who would become his companion. What had Nakata thought of him when they first met? _I was terrified that day_ , Adam recalled. _This boy probably will be too. I should be sympathetic_.

When the boy arrived with his father Adam was not immediately impressed. He seemed shy, he was lanky, and he dismounted a horse clumsily. All of that he could forgive, he could repair, but did the boy have any spirit? He remembered the words Nakata would whisper to him in quiet moments. “I always knew you had fire in you, Adam. From the very beginning, I saw the heat in you.”

When Adam tried to look the boy in the eye, Thomas – yes, that was his name – would not meet his gaze. _Maybe if I push him, he will react_ , Adam thought. “Your son, he seems to come from weak stock,” he said to the boy’s father. 

When the boy locked eyes with Adam and fired back, Adam had to admit that he was a little surprised at his vehemence. _He’s got fire in him too_ , Adam thought, caught for a moment by the spark in the boy’s eyes and the flush on his cheeks. 

They finished the formalities of the apprenticeship and he watched with some sadness as the boy said goodbye to his father. He recalled his own first goodbye, how hard it had been, how hard he had tried to hide his fear from his sensei. He tried to be reassuring, and led the boy toward the stable. Shiro was ready, and Adam let out a huge sigh as he headed back toward the castle, leaving Thomas in Shiro’s capable hands for now.

The day dragged slowly; his father had asked him to handle a border dispute between two farmers. They were tedious men and refused to compromise on even the smallest detail. After he listened to them bicker for over an hour, he bade them wait while he deliberated their issue on his own. He left them together in the library to squabble out of his earshot, and retired to his room. 

He already had a solution in mind, one he was sure was equitable. If they did not like it he would simply force them to accept it through his authority as the representative of the daimyo. But he wanted to sneak away to check on his apprentice. From one window in his room he could see down to the stableyard and he watched Thomas for a while, smiling as the boy struggled to carry a pile of horseshoes to one of the stable hands. The weight was too much for him so he had to put half down and carry them in two trips, but he did it nonetheless and returned directly to Shiro when he was finished. 

Adam watched Thomas a little longer, until he had left the arguing farmers alone long enough. Surprisingly, they did not complain about his solution for demarcating the boundary between their lands. _Perhaps they began to get along while they were waiting for me_ , Adam thought. Two people could often learn to find common ground when they were thrust into a challenging situation together. Perhaps the same would come to be true of him and Thomas. 

The hour was growing late and Adam had to acknowledge that he was allowing himself to stall far too long. As he approached the stable, Shiro crossed the courtyard to meet him. “My lord, I just sent Thomas to collect water for the horses, it may be a few minutes until he returns.”

“Tell me, Shiro, how has he done today? What do you think of him?”

“He is eager, and he does not shy away from hard work. He is scared however; I think he cannot quite believe all this has happened to him.”

It was something Adam had not considered. As far back as he could remember, he knew he would become a samurai. “The men in our family, we are samurai,” his father had told him many times. “There is samurai blood in your veins; your ancestors have died honorably in battle for centuries.”

Though Adam had been fearful when he began his own apprenticeship, he had long prepared for it and knew by heart what it meant. Thomas, however, had believed all his life that he could not become a samurai because he had been born a farmer’s son. Then, just yesterday, Adam’s father had interceded and made Thomas into something he thought he could never be.

Shiro snapped him from the thought. “Here he comes, my lord.” Adam looked up and saw Thomas clumsily making his way toward the stable with a bucket in his hands. Though he tripped and strained, he spilled almost no water. 

“Thomas, Shiro tells me you worked hard today,” Adam said, and before he could stop himself, he told the boy that he would accompany him part of the way home. He could not say what moved him to make such an offer, but he noted how it made Thomas’s face light up even as the boy tried to hide his smile. 

He directed Thomas to ready their horses and watched with an almost begrudging kernel of fondness as Thomas hurried away. On the journey, when Thomas admitted he was hoping to spend more time training with his sensei, Adam was struck by an unexpected twinge of guilt. He felt he owed the boy an explanation, if only so that he did not feel Adam had abandoned him. Adam began speaking of the matters to which he had attended that day, about his duty as a samurai and as the son of the daimyo. He had been paying little attention to his surroundings, and realized suddenly he had ridden farther with Thomas than he had intended.

He bade the boy goodnight and headed back toward the castle, letting his horse make its own sure-footed way while he considered his situation. He was quiet at the evening meal and retired early, lighting candles in the small library and searching through scrolls. He had been there for an hour, reading wisdom from the great samurai whose words were immortalized on the rolls of parchment, when his mother found him.

“Adam, what is it you seek?”

“My apprentice knows little about bushido, mother. I am studying the scrolls to see where to begin teaching him.”

“How do you like your apprentice?” she asked.

“He is a winsome boy, though with fire in him. His asset will be agility more than strength. But until today he was a farmer. He has much to learn about becoming a warrior.”

“Just as you have much to learn about becoming a sensei. And like your young apprentice, you will not find the answers quickly,” she said softly and walked over to pull a scroll from a shelf. “Much as your skills with a sword grew over time, so too will your skills as a teacher. You two have a long future together. There is no need for haste.”

He paused, caught by surprise that she had echoed his own words of the day before. “Perhaps you are right, mother.” Smiling, she handed him the parchment and withdrew from the room.

They would have years together. And yet the way of the samurai was not the future. Nor was it the past, though Adam often dwelled on it. No, the way of the samurai was death. It was here and now, honor and glory. _But when there are no battles to be fought, what is the way of the samurai then?_ Adam wondered. 

He shook his head firmly; he had not felt so uncertain in a long time. He unrolled the scroll his mother had given him to find it scrawled over with many sayings of the Chinese philosopher Confucius. Adam was not certain which bit of wisdom his mother had intended for him, but his eyes fell on one that seemed fitting. “It does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.” _Yes_. For now, he would wait, and watch, and give both he and Thomas time. He did not know what else to do.

For the next several days, Adam left Thomas with Shiro. He would make a point to greet the boy in the morning, and at least once every few days stay to talk with him a while and inquire after his progress. In truth he well knew how Thomas was faring; he would sit by the window in his room and watch his apprentice for long stretches of the afternoon. He began to memorize the cadence of Thomas’s stride, he could estimate how much the boy could carry without struggling, he watched him smile and laugh now and then with Shiro or the other servants. Every evening after the boy left, Adam would go to Shiro for a report on Thomas’s progress. The boy was doing well, Shiro said. Thomas was an eager worker and a quick learner. The few times Shiro had taken him out riding the boy showed great improvement. 

After more than a week, however, Adam was still uncertain of his next step with the boy. And yet he could not leave Thomas with Shiro forever. He had hoped a strategy would come to him, but he continued to founder. One afternoon Lord Lambert found Adam in his room, watching Thomas in the courtyard below. “Son, what are you doing? Where is your apprentice?”

“He is learning to care for his horse from the stable hands. I have been watching his progress.”

“Do not forget, Adam — he is your apprentice, not a stableboy.”

“Yes, father.” 

A few days later, Shiro finally spoke up as well. “Master Lambert,” he said in a demure tone he rarely affected with Adam. “A day will come when I run out of things to teach Thomas.”

“I am aware of this, Shiro.”

“Yes, my lord.”

That evening Adam took a long walk through the forest, with his katana on his hip and a torch to light his way. He picked up the trail of a young stag and tracked it for a few kilometers. He did not intend to hunt the animal, not at night and without a bow and arrows, but it gave his mind the respite of a path that was clear.

He was deep into the woods before he turned back, looking to the stars to point his way home. _I wonder if Thomas knows how to do these things, track prey and tell direction from the skies_. Adam returned to the castle more at peace than when he had left it — indeed, more than he had been in some time. He had discovered his next step, even if he could see no further.

  


**Chapter 3**

Tommy had barely seen his sensei in the ten days since beginning his apprenticeship, and his worry was starting down a whole new path. If Master Lambert had decided Tommy was not fit to be his apprentice, then why had he not told Tommy to stop coming to the castle? But if Master Lambert had not yet realized Tommy was unfit for this, then why did he not train Tommy himself?

It was easy for his concerns to grow disproportionate, since Tommy had no real idea what to expect of his apprenticeship, or of his sensei. In truth, all his expectations were based on dreams and stories; he knew no one who could tell him what a samurai apprentice was meant to do. All his friends, and all the adults he knew, were peasants, farmers and laborers. The only person he could ask was Master Lambert himself, but Tommy did not dare. 

This concern over Master Lambert’s lack of attention to his training was compounded every evening, when Tommy would arrive home to his parents’ farm. His father looked more and more haggard by the day, and his mother would often pause to rest while cooking or cleaning, leaning for long moments on the table when she thought no one watched. Tommy was young and not yet able to contribute much around the farm, but it was clear his parents were making up for his absence by doing his chores themselves. _Perhaps I should tell Master Lambert I wish to resign my apprenticeship_ , Tommy thought as he lay awake one night. _It is selfish of me to put my parents through so much, when I am bound to fail_. 

The next morning he asked his mother if he should give up, albeit quietly, as she readied his breakfast. “Thomas, do not say such a thing! And by no means say it to your father! Your apprenticeship brings great honor to this family, more than a hundred workers toiling day and night on this farm could. Your father talks without cease of how his son will become a samurai. He would never forgive himself if you gave up on our account.”

Tommy apologized, and remained quiet while he readied himself and his horse. As he rode to the castle, he dwelt on his mother’s words about how much his father wanted him to become a samurai. He had been so lost in his own fears that he had forgotten his father’s hopes. What had his sensei said about filial piety? _It is your duty to your father to see this through_ , a voice in his head chastised. _You must work hard and do your best. If Master Lambert chooses to send you away, so be it, but it should not be because you gave up or did not try hard enough. How else will you look your father in the eye?_

By the time he arrived at the castle he had resolved himself to see this thing through. It would have been reassuring, though, to see his sensei, perhaps spend time with him. However, Master Lambert did not even come to say good morning, and Tommy's doubts began creeping back again. 

As the morning wore on he grew more pensive and spoke little. Following the afternoon meal, he readied his horse and rode with Shiro to the meadow for more riding lessons. They were to practice skills for riding during battle, but after the second time Tommy almost fell from his horse, Shiro stopped and dismounted. “You are distracted today, Thomas. Your horse knows it. What is wrong?”

Shiro was the closest he had to a friend in this new life at Lord Lambert’s castle. Yet Tommy did not want to tell him. He did not want to acknowledge his fear to anyone — he was supposed to be fearless. _I am to become a samurai. Nothing should vex me. There should be no challenge I cannot face_. 

“It is nothing,” Tommy answered, a little curtly. “I am merely thirsty.” It was not true, but he sought the reprieve of a moment of solitude. He took his canteen and headed toward the stream they had passed on their way to the meadow. At the bank, he sat against the trunk of an old tree and drew his knees up, curling into a ball to keep everything tightly inside. He took a few deep breaths but it did not help; he could feel his face getting hotter and his eyes start to sting. 

“Damn it!” he cursed as he felt the first tears roll down his cheeks. He wiped at them roughly and forced himself up, heading toward the water’s edge, when he heard his name.

“Shiro,” he said, gasping a little in surprise. Shiro had followed him, and now looked at him with a furrowed brow. 

“I am sorry, Thomas,” he said softly, in the tone he used to calm an agitated steed. “I have been working you very hard since you came to the castle. These skills are not ones you learn in a day or a week or even a year. You have been progressing well, do not overlook that simply because you are fatigued. Master Lambert is very satisfied with how much you have learned.”

“He is?” Tommy’s embarrassment subsided for a moment, replaced by surprise at Shiro’s words. “But what does he know of my progress?”

“He asks about you every day after you leave. He often watches you from the castle, when he is not busy with administrative affairs.”

“He does?” _He has been watching me?_ Tommy’s mind hurried to wrap itself around this information. _He is pleased with me?_ Suddenly when Tommy tried to breathe he was able to fill his lungs fully; the tightness in his chest was loosening and the heat in his face began to fade.

Shiro smiled and bent down to fill his canteen. “Come, let us go back to the castle. We can be finished early today. A good night of sleep will ready you for your duties tomorrow.”

Thomas nodded, hoping Shiro understood how grateful he was for the reassurance, and they headed back to their horses. He was glad to get home early for once, and though he was tired, it reinvigorated him to know he would be able to help his mother with dinner. 

The next day his energy was better and his sullenness was gone, and he brought to the castle some apples his family had just bartered for, sharing them with Shiro and the other stable hands after the afternoon meal. He and Shiro were eating their apples in the courtyard when Master Lambert approached. They bowed low, and he returned the greeting

“Good afternoon, Thomas, Shiro. Are those apples?”

Shiro spoke up right away. “Yes, my lord, Thomas brought them from his family’s larder to share with the stable hands.”

Master Lambert looked at Tommy and smiled; Tommy had to drop his gaze from the cool intensity of Master Lambert’s blue eyes, and he felt the warmth of a blush in his cheeks. “That was very generous of you, Thomas. Benevolence is the way of the samurai.”

“Thank you, sensei.”

“Thomas, I would like you to tell your father and mother that tomorrow evening you will not be returning home. I wish to take you on a hunt to see your tracking and maneuvering skills out in the wild. We will leave in the morning and camp in the forest tomorrow night.”

Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he almost dropped his apple to the dusty ground. He choked down the half-chewed piece of fruit in his mouth and managed to nod. “Yes, sensei. What should I do to prepare?”

“If you have a bow at home, bring it. We have plenty of arrows in the armory. Bring blankets for sleeping in the woods, and your canteen. I will have food prepared for our journey. Be here at first light.”

“Yes, sensei,” Tommy managed again, and stared as Master Lambert turned and headed back toward the castle.

Shiro clapped Tommy on the back as he walked the length of the stables, stopping to feed his apple core to Master Lambert’s horse. “I suppose I will be doing my stable work alone for a couple of days,” Shiro said with a laugh. Tommy could not hide his smile as he followed after.

  


Tommy was eager in the morning and his mother knew it, rising early to shepherd him out the door before the sun even hinted over the horizon. “Be careful, Thomas. And stay warm, I do not wish to see you catch a chill from sleeping on the cold ground.”

When Tommy arrived at the castle, Shiro had Master Lambert’s horse waiting in the courtyard. “The master has gone to fetch arrows for you both,” he told Tommy. “He will be pleased you are here early.”

Just then Misa came hurrying toward them from the castle carrying a basket. “Thomas!” she exclaimed as she approached, and Tommy could not help but notice the way her chest heaved from rushing with her burden. He often traded quick glances or smiles with her during the afternoon meal as she brought food out from the kitchen. Sometimes she would sneak him an extra rice ball, or a piece of fruit.

“Misa,” he said with a little bow. “It is good to see you.”

“I brought the food for your hunting trip with Master Lambert. I imagine you are very excited.”

Tommy was, though he did his best to subdue it. “Yes. I look forward to learning the skills to become a great samurai like him.”

“You will do well hunting, Thomas, I know it. I remember how skilled you were at tracking down rats’ nests out in the rice paddies.”

“Is that so, Thomas?” Master Lambert had come up around the corner of the stable. Tommy turned bright red; he was ashamed to have his sensei see him be so familiar with one of the servants. 

Misa spoke up. “My lord, I have brought your supplies.” 

“Thank you, Misa,” he said as he took the sacks of food from the basket in her arms. As soon as she was relieved of her burden she turned and hurried back to the castle, and Tommy watched her go until Master Lambert spoke again.

“Do you know her, Thomas?”

“Our fathers barter rice and fruit. She would visit my family’s farm often when we were children.”

“I see. Come, Thomas, let us ready our gear and begin our journey.” 

On the road, Master Lambert described the surrounding terrain: which farmers owned which rice paddies and orchards, how vast different stretches of forest were, how far it was to Kyoto in the south or north to the sea. 

They reached the forest where Master Lambert often hunted. First he showed Tommy how to choose a suitable place to camp. They tied their horses and began to scout the area. Tommy had never hunted boar, but he knew how to pick up a trail. Boar left tracks far easier to spot than those of rats in the paddies. The late morning grew warm in the still air of the forest, and Tommy soaked in the wildness of it, stopping to examine plants that were foreign to him, and strange insects. He made sure never to lose sight of his sensei, however; this was the farthest from home he had ever been, and he was not certain he could get back on his own. 

As the afternoon wore on, they managed to find only one boar and it was too quick. But as they returned to their campsite, Tommy tracked and felled a large hare, which gained him no small amount of praise from Master Lambert. “I am impressed, Thomas. Your aim with the arrow is quite skilled.” 

Tommy let the adulation buoy his spirits. “Sensei,” he asked when they reached the camp, “Would it be alright if I went to wash in the creek? Chasing that hare left me quite muddy.”

“Certainly, Thomas.” Master Lambert was smiling. “I shall start a fire and clean the hare.”

“Thank you, sensei.” Tommy rushed off, feeling quite pleased with himself, laughing off the moroseness that had weighed on him so heavily him just yesterday morning. He stripped when he reached the creek, rinsing the dirt and mud and hare’s blood off his clothes first and draping them over a rock to dry. Then he waded into the creek himself, dunking his head to wash the forest from his hair and body. The water was cool and he had goosebumps when he emerged, so he stretched out on a flat, sun-warmed rock. The air was more open here where there was a break in the denseness of the forest along the water. He let the sun beat down on him and the breeze blow through his damp hair. 

He was anxious to tell Shiro about the rabbit, and Misa as well. For a moment, he thought of Misa, her chest flushed and heaving this morning as she brought their supplies. He was still keyed up from the hunt, and the sun drying his skin was making his whole body feel tight; it took no more to send the blood rushing to his groin. He reached down and ran his hand over himself, gasping at the feel. It was so tempting to do it here, to pleasure himself in the solitude of the forest with the late afternoon sun warming his skin. He blushed at the impropriety of the thought. His sensei would be waiting. He took a deep breath and got to his feet, dressing quickly when he found his clothes were mostly dry.

Master Lambert was gone when he returned, so Tommy set about fetching their blankets from their packs and the rice balls Misa had packed for them. The sky was growing dim and he was starting to worry a little when his sensei returned with a pile of firewood. He built a small campfire, explaining to Tommy the right way to arrange the branches and brush, and how a samurai should always travel with a small piece of flint to start campfires easily. 

It was fully dark by the time the rabbit was cooked. Tommy rarely ate rabbit — his father’s bartering partners rarely had it to trade, or asked a high price. Master Lambert had found some wild herbs and seasoned the meat with them, and Tommy could not imagine being happier than being out here in the forest, eating the game he caught with his sensei. Though Tommy was tired, they talked by the fire for some time after they ate. 

“I am very impressed with your hunting skills, Thomas. You can track quite well.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Tommy replied, blushing a little.

“You know, I think when we are alone together, you can call me Adam.”

Tommy’s breath caught. “I can?”

“It is my duty to train you to be my equal as a samurai. I would say this is a good step in that direction.”

“Thank you… Adam.” It felt foreign coming off his tongue, but when Tommy looked up his sensei — _Adam_ — was smiling at him. And when he reached out and put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy felt a little bit of weight lift off his mind. _He thinks I can do this_. 

The stars were clear and bright and the fire had shrunk to glowing embers as they spread their blankets on the ground to sleep. Though Tommy had been afraid to camp out in the woods — so far from his mother and father, his farmhouse, his bed — those fears were distant now. Instead he felt warm and unexpectedly safe, and the exhaustion of the day was already pulling him toward sleep. 

“Goodnight, Thomas,” Adam said softly as he lay down a few feet away.

Tommy had closed his eyes, and did not open them when he spoke. “You could call me Tommy. I like it better than Thomas.”

“I like it too. Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight, Adam,” Tommy answered, and wondered if he had already begun to dream.

  


**Chapter 4**

Adam had been out gathering firewood when he realized he was close to the creek; he could hear the music of the water playing over the rocks. He headed toward the sound, intending to enlist Thomas’ help with the firewood if the boy was still nearby. But when Adam caught sight of the clearing by the stream, he stopped dead. Thomas was there, yes, but this… Adam had not expected to come upon the scene before him.

Thomas was lying stretched out on a flat piece of rock, naked, running his hand over his body. Adam almost dropped his firewood when Thomas’ fingers slid down and wrapped around his erect cock. Adam ducked back behind the nearest tree and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but too late. The image was there now, bright and clear in his mind. His young apprentice, one long, lean line of bare skin, pleasuring himself in the sun by the stream, thinking he was alone in the woods. Adam slinked quietly away, forcing himself not to look back.

When he felt he had retreated far enough, Adam slumped against a tree, his firewood dropped to the ground with a careless clatter. The distance he put between himself and Thomas did nothing to dull the vividness of what he saw, nor the sharpness of what he felt: desire. Adam thought for a moment of running his own hands over Thomas’s body, but immediately pushed away the thought. _He’s too young, it’s too soon. He must come to me_.

But what unsettled him most was that he had _wanted_ to go to Thomas, and with a surprising intensity. Somewhere in his mind Adam had harbored a hope that his relationship with Thomas would never come to that. Not every samurai and his apprentice became lovers; many shared the intimacy of brothers instead. Adam had hoped brotherhood would be enough, but here was his body, betraying him.

He got up again and started moving purposefully, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the buzzing just under his skin. He let himself hike through the woods for quite some time, finding wild herbs to cook with the rabbit, until he felt the heat in his blood had dissipated enough. He returned to camp and forced his breath to steady when he saw Thomas there waiting for him.

Adam built the fire, showing Thomas how to do so properly; it was a skill he had mastered well during the year he spent out in the Western lands. Tending to the fire kept his hands and mind busy at least, kept him from looking too long at his apprentice. After they had eaten, Adam felt calmer; the fire was warm and the air was cool and he remembered how peaceful he found it to be in the forest at night, alone. Save that Thomas was here with him. He looked at the boy and let the warmth in his chest linger for a while. When Thomas looked up, Adam could not help a kind word.

“I am very impressed with your hunting skills, Thomas. You can track quite well.” He meant it unreservedly; Thomas’ skills had caught him by surprise. There was, he had to admit, more to Thomas than he had been willing to acknowledge. There was a potential there he felt himself drawn to. Thomas blushed, though he could not fight the slight curve of a smile. Adam watched the way the firelight danced on his lips, and before he knew it he was pushing further than he had intended.

“You know, I think when we are alone together, you can call me Adam.”

Though Thomas seemed hesitant at first, he soon responded in kind. “You could call me Tommy.”

Adam said goodnight, stretched out on his back staring up at the stars through the treetops. _Tommy suits him_ , Adam thought. He looked over at his apprentice and felt that pull again, the same one he had felt at the creek. But instead he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself to sleep. 

It was still well before dawn when Adam’s instincts snapped him awake. His hands were already wrapped tightly around his wakizashi, ready to unsheathe the short, dagger-like blade against whatever danger he had sensed. He peered into the darkness toward where he had heard the sound of movement, and let out a breath when he saw it was his apprentice.

“Thomas… Tommy? What are you doing awake?”

“I am sorry to wake you,” Tommy said, his voice small and trembling. “I woke up cold. I was fetching another blanket from my pack.”

Adam had shaken enough sleep to realize that it was indeed cold, certainly colder than he expected given the warmth of the afternoon. “Tommy,” he said, sitting up a bit, “you could lie next to me. To keep each other warm. If you would like.”

Tommy paused and stood looking at Adam from the other side of the blackened ring of ash where the fire had burned out. _Why do I keep saying these things?_ But then Tommy was moving, heading toward him, blanket clutched in his arms. He lay down gingerly, as though he were afraid to touch Adam. _Of course he is afraid to touch me_.

“Come here,” Adam said, reaching his arm out. The brief invitation was enough, and Tommy tucked himself, small but solid, against Adam’s side, pulling the blanket over so that it covered them both. He was shivering, and Adam fought the urge to clutch Tommy too tight, too close. He took a deep breath and let his skin soak in the heat of Tommy’s body, and sometime later he finally drifted back to sleep.

In the morning he let himself lie there, Tommy’s warmth a comfort that was almost familiar. He thought of so many mornings like this in the forest when he had woken with the solidness of Master Nakata’s arm around him. He finally forced himself to get up, gently so as to not wake Tommy, and moved quietly around the camp, taking their things back to the horses.

He was just returning when he spied Tommy stirring. “Good morning, Tommy, I hope you slept well?”

“Mmhmm,” Tommy muttered, still sleep-groggy. “Thank you for letting me sleep with you. It was much better being warm.”

Adam looked over and smiled. “I was cold as well. That is the nature of the relationship between master and apprentice. Often what is good for one is good for both. Now get ready, we shall try for another boar while it is still early, and start for home by midday.”

They had not been scouting long when Tommy picked up a trail — he truly had a talent for it — and they followed it to a dense thicket of underbrush where they suspected the boar hid. Adam unsheathed his katana and offered the hilt to Tommy. “Take this and chase it out from behind,” he whispered. “I shall wait on this side to take it down with an arrow.”

Tommy was staring at the sword with wide eyes but his hands did not move to take it. _They boy has never held a sword before_ , Adam realized. “Tommy, have you held a wooden sword before, a _bokken_?”

Tommy nodded.

“This will be no different, only the katana is heavier. You are not fighting anyone. There is no need to be apprehensive.”

Tommy swallowed hard and looked up at Adam, and Adam could see he was trying valiantly to best his fear. Adam offered the sword to him again and this time Tommy wrapped his hands around the hilt and took it carefully from Adam’s hands. He lifted the blade up, getting a feel for its weight, and then lowered it again.

“Are you ready, Tommy?”

Tommy breathed deep and nodded, and moved slowly around toward the back of the thicket. When he was in position Adam gave the signal, and Tommy began chopping at the underbrush with the sword. It took only a moment for Adam to see the rustling in the leaves, right between him and Tommy. He took a step backward and raised the bow, following the movement through the bushes with the tip of the arrow. Tommy gave chase, trying to guide it toward Adam, and when it burst out of the bushes not even a dozen feet away, Adam had a clear shot and took it. The boar let out a piercing squeal and shot back into the underbrush, but slowed quickly before it stopped altogether.

“Adam! You got him!” Tommy was shouting and running toward him. In his rush of adrenaline, Adam grabbed the boy into a tight embrace. 

“We did it together, Tommy," he said as he hastily pulled away, brushing at his tunic self-consciously. "I would not have succeeded without you.” 

They headed for the brush where the boar had collapsed, and Adam instructed Tommy on how to finish dispatching the creature and truss its legs. It was not a large beast, and they had little trouble carrying it back to the horses. They wrapped the animal in burlap and tied it on the back of Adam’s horse behind the saddle. It was just past midday, and when their burdens were secure they mounted and began to ride back toward the castle.

Tommy took the lead, his horse more eager than Adam's, but they were in no rush. Tommy would trot ahead a little ways and then wait for Adam under the shade of a tree. The day was warm but less so than the day before, and the breeze whipped pleasantly through their hair as they rode.

When they reached the crossroads by the village, Adam sent Tommy directly on the north road to his farm. The day was wearing on and he could tell from Tommy’s growing quietness over the past hour that the boy was tired. Still, Adam swore he heard a tick of disappointment in Tommy’s voice when they said farewell; an echo of that feeling trailed after Adam as he rode back to the castle alone.

Shiro hurried to greet him when he entered the gates, and Adam called for more help to carry the boar to the kitchen. Once his horse was unburdened he headed into the castle. He was quiet at the evening meal, speaking briefly about the hunting trip to his mother and father, then retired early to bathe.

After he had cleansed his body he eased down into the steaming water of the bath, letting the heat loosen his muscles. He was surprised at how much he missed Tommy’s company already, how spending the last two days with the boy had been gratifying in a way he craved now that it was gone. The snatches of simple joy he felt while out in the forest with his apprentice were pleasures he had thought lost to him. And then his mind fell upon the scene at the creek: Tommy, stretched out, naked, stroking himself.

_He is too young_ , Adam reminded himself quickly. In point of tradition, however, that was not true. Twelve was not too young for the relationship between an apprentice and a teacher to mature. Many boys began even younger. Adam himself was not quite to his twelfth birthday when he and Master Nakata were together for the first time. _But I knew what to expect. Tommy has not been schooled in the love that can exist between a samurai and apprentice. I had years to come to understand it before it began_.

Tradition also dictated, however, that the apprentice must approach the master. _He must come to me, and I must wait. It may take years. He may never come at all_. 

Adam emerged from the tub and returned to his bedroom, the coolness of the night air chasing away much of the heat he’d found in the bath. He lay down and pulled up the duvet, but still a slight shiver ran up his spine. Though his bedding was far softer than the forest floor where he had lain last night, he would trade the comfort to have Tommy tucked beside him again.

  


**Chapter 5**

Tommy awoke in his own bed, still exhausted but eager for the morning. He had returned home from the hunt last night and stayed awake only long enough to tell his parents about the boar and the hare and how Master Lambert had let him use his katana. His mother sent him to bed right after dinner, and he fell asleep with his father’s proud smile still on his mind.

The morning air smelled of rain, and he hurried to the castle while watching gray clouds slowly roll in from the north. When he arrived he headed for the stable; Shiro rushed out when he saw Tommy.

“Thomas! The great hunter returns! That was quite a boar Master Lambert brought back!”

Tommy blushed as he dismounted from his horse. “Master Lambert felled the boar,” he said humbly. “I merely chased it out from the underbrush.”

“The way Master Lambert tells it, you drove the boar right to him. And you took down a hare besides," Shiro chided, taking the reins from Tommy. "Do not be so modest, Thomas, you obviously have a talent for hunting.”

Tommy could not help but be pleased Master Lambert was praising his skills. In truth, the hunting trip had done much to bolster his confidence. He had not failed; he had not made a fool of himself. And for the first time he felt as though he and his sensei were companions. Before their journey, he had not even been certain whether Master Lambert even wanted to be in his company. But he was not Master Lambert anymore, he was Adam. He had taught Tommy many things, let him wield his katana, kept him warm during the cold night.

_Father told me that a samurai and his apprentice become like brothers, even closer than brothers. This must be what he meant_. Tommy suddenly wanted to see Adam, but when he looked around the courtyard his sensei was nowhere to be found. Tommy pushed his pang of disappointment away and set to work.

He and Shiro secured the stable in advance of the rain, then began helping the other servants clear equipment from the courtyard. The wind was picking up and the first few drops were starting to fall when the bell rang for the afternoon meal. Shiro and Tommy had just finished moving several pieces of equipment when Misa came running over to them.

“Come inside,” she called to them, holding her hand above her head for the little protection from the rain it offered. “Lord Lambert has given permission for everyone to eat in the main hall. It has gotten crowded, but you both can come back with me to the pantry. There is more room, and Thomas, you can tell me about the hunt!”

She turned and rushed back into the castle, leaving them to watch after her. “Everyone has heard what a skilled hunter you are!” Shiro said, nudging his elbow as they washed up quickly and went inside. Tommy had only been inside the castle a few times; his chores kept him mostly out of doors and there was no reason for him to intrude. This time Misa escorted them down a long corridor Thomas had not seen before, and he fell behind as he peered into some of the rooms. One was a library, where hundreds of scrolls were tucked into cubicles along the walls. The next several rooms were small parlors where the daimyo housed guests. The first was large and elaborate, obviously meant for visitors of status. The walls were hung with handwoven tapestries and woodblock prints. Several ornate chairs and chaises stood along the walls and the windows were hung with curtains of rich fabrics. Other rooms off the hall were smaller and less elegantly appointed, meant for retinue and less influential guests.

“Come on, Thomas,” Misa called, trying to keep her voice low. He ran to catch them and turned an abrupt corner into the pantry. The expansive space was lined with shelves filled with bushels of rice, dried and salted fishes, ginger jars full of spices and several baskets filled with fresh produce.

“Wait here, I will fetch our meal,” Misa said, and Tommy and Shiro sat on the floor on either side of an upturned wooden crate they could use as a table. Tommy glanced around, humbled; the pantry alone was almost as large as the entire kitchen in his farmhouse. He wondered what it would be like to grow up in a castle so large.

Misa returned with several bowls on a wooden tray. They were steaming, three filled with stew and a larger bowl full of rice to share. “Master Lambert gave the boar to the cook to make a stew. He said he thought you would want all the servants to enjoy it.”

“That was kind of him,” Tommy said, delighted that his sensei had made such a gesture. As they ate, he recounted the hunting trip to his two friends, thrilling at their “oohs” and “ahhs” as he told how he felled the hare himself, and how they had taken the boar down together. The three were so caught up in conversing that they paid little heed to the increasing intensity of the rain until a loud thunderclap sounded in the distance, startling them.

Shiro sprang up from the floor. “I should go back to the stable, a few of the horses spook easily from thunder and lightning.”

Tommy made to rise as well, but Shiro motioned for him to remain. “Enjoy your stew, Thomas. You more than anyone should. I will tend to the horses.”

He was barely out of the room when Misa slid over closer to Tommy. “You are already becoming quite the samurai, Tommy.” She reached out and laid her hand lightly on his arm. “Do you mind if I still call you Tommy when we are alone?”

The question reminded him of the night before, when he had offered his sensei that very intimacy. But this was Misa, a long-time friend, and though her hand on his arm was making him nervous, he tried to laugh off his sudden anxiety. After all, she had always called him Tommy when they had played together as children. “Yes, if I can call you Misa-chan like I used to,” he said, adding the diminutive to her name.

“I would like that,” she said, softly this time, inching closer and lifting her hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He stiffened, not expecting the touch.

“Misa,” he stuttered, backing away in surprise. This was… this was new.

“Misa-chan,” she corrected him in a whisper, trailing her fingers down his arm. He looked up at her and she was smiling sweetly, but with a flicker of something more behind it. He could feel the sting of the blush in his cheeks, and part of him wanted to run from the pantry, but something even deeper made him stay. The air was quiet and heavy, and when she darted her tongue to lick her lips he could not look away.

“Tommy,” she said, still in the same hushed voice. “If you wanted to, you could kiss me.”

He swallowed hard and looked around, making sure they were alone but buying time as well. Where was his training for a situation like this? “Misa-chan…”

He could feel his heart pound in his chest, amplifying his uncertainty, when they heard voices approaching. “The cook is coming,” Misa said nervously, looking toward the doorway. Tommy hurried to his feet and helped Misa up, squeezing her hand slightly before he let go, but it was enough for her to flash a smile.

He smiled back and ducked out the way they had come in, leaving Misa alone in the pantry. He tried to keep his footfalls quiet as he made his way back to the main hall and out of the castle, all the while confounded at what had happened in the pantry. Since he started his apprenticeship, he more than once had caught himself regarding Misa in ways that were not platonic. But he had not considered those imaginings might become real. Was this even permitted? What would Master Lambert think? 

He hurried out through the steadily increasing downpour to the stable, letting the rain and the whickering of the horses, edgy from the the thunder and the stirring wind, take the place of his troubled thoughts. Tommy had just come upon Shiro near the back of the stable when he heard his name. He turned to see Adam coming toward them, the rain already pasting locks of black hair to his face. Tommy’s pulse began to race.

“Thomas, the storm is growing much stronger, there may be flooding. You should go before the roads become treacherous.”

“But sensei — ” Tommy started to protest. He had bested far worse than rain in the last few days, and his riding skills had improved considerably under Shiro’s tutelage. He did not want Adam to think he was incapable.

“I do not doubt your skills, Thomas, but rain like this often creates mudslides on the road down the hill,” Adam said, and then crouched down and put a hand on Tommy’s elbow. “I would worry for your safety if you were to wait much longer to leave,” he added quietly.

“Of course, sensei,” Tommy said. Adam smiled and Tommy could see the relief visible on his face. 

Tommy rode cautiously and as soon as he came upon the first small washed-out section of trail he was glad for Adam sending him home. His horse was growing uneasy with the tricky conditions and the cracks of thunder and lightning. He was soaked when he finally made it home and his mother rushed up with a blanket to dry him as he came inside. “Thomas, I am glad you are home. The weather is terrible!”

Once in dry clothes he came out to help his mother in the kitchen. It was something he had missed, and he was insistent when she tried to encourage him to rest instead. “Thomas, you need not help. You work so hard all day at your training. Enjoy this one evening and relax.”

“But mother, I want to help. Let me build the fire for you.” She acquiesced, and he set to the task eagerly, wanting to put to use the new skills his sensei had taught him. When he had gotten the kindling placed just so and it caught easily from the spark of the flint, he sat on the edge of hearth and let the flames warm him for a moment. Sitting there quietly staring into the fire, he had a moment finally to think back on Misa — how she had touched him, what she had said. He recalled the words clearly, but what did they mean? _I think you know what it meant_ , a voice inside him answered.

Tommy had stolen glances at young women now and then, but he had never spoken so intimately with a girl, never been touched with that kind of intention. His curiosity was piqued and his body was more than interested. And yet he felt guilty somehow, caught out. _That is not why I go to the castle. I am there to work and to train and to become a brave and loyal samurai_.

His mother came over, setting the rice over the fire to cook before sitting next to him. “Thomas, darling, is something the matter? You seem far away.”

He looked up to find kindness in her eyes. “Much has changed for me so quickly, but I feel I am still so young.”

“Thomas, you are no longer a child. You are becoming a young man, and you are ready for many more things than perhaps you realize.”

“Do you really think so, mother? Sometimes I am so uncertain.”

“Master Lambert is a brave samurai, and by learning from him you will become a brave samurai as well. Your father would not have apprenticed you to him if he were not a suitable teacher.”

Adam had indeed taught him many things in these last few weeks. What would he say about Misa? Were there rules about this sort of thing? _I should not do something that would lead me to be disobedient_. But who could tell him whether this was disobedience? He knew the answer — he should ask Adam. _We are to be like brothers; I should not be afraid to ask what is expected of me_.

That night, as he lie in his bed, Tommy thought back to the way Misa had touched him, how it had sent sparks up his arm and terrified him; he was not used to this feeling of wanting and fearing the same thing.

  


The following morning Tommy arrived at the castle later than usual; the rain had stopped but there were still many places where the road had been washed out. He could hear a commotion from a good distance away, and urged his horse faster to learn the cause.

When the castle came into view he saw that a massive tree had fallen and badly damaged a large section of the outer wall of the courtyard. The wall was the castle’s primary defense, and any injury to it left the daimyo’s estate vulnerable. Its repair would be Lord Lambert’s highest priority, and indeed when he approached he saw that Adam was directing servants with axes to chop apart the tree’s massive trunk and remove it in segments from where it lay against the battlement.

The stable, indeed most of the courtyard, was empty; all the servants who could be spared would be working on the wall. Tommy tied up his horse and headed quickly to the worksite to offer his assistance. “Thomas,” Adam called when he saw him approach. “I am glad to see you are well. You and your family weathered the storm safely?”

“Yes, thank you, sensei. But what happened here? Was anyone injured?”

“You are always so thoughtful of others, Thomas,” Adam said, smiling. “No, no one was harmed. But we must repair the wall immediately.”

“Of course,” Tommy said, looking over the damage. “How may I assist?”

“You can take an axe and join the workers. I must travel to the village and inform the stonemason of our predicament.”

Tommy set to work and spent the rest of that day as well as all the next splitting the tree and piling the wood in the courtyard to be used for firewood and lumber. It was backbreaking work and Tommy’s body was sore, but less so than he expected. By the morning of the third day, the debris was clear and they could begin rebuilding as soon as the new load of stone arrived. The stonemason’s son, a slight young man of about seventeen, had ridden in an hour ago to inform the daimyo that the stone had been dispatched and the first delivery would arrive that afternoon.

The daimyo permitted the workers to rest while they waited, and Tommy decided to wander the grounds. He had been hoping for a chance to see the rock garden that was behind the castle. Shiro had told him repeatedly about its beautiful design, with a tall weeping cherry tree in the center. When he came upon the garden he headed toward a stone bench in the shade of the castle wall and sat, resting his tired muscles and enjoying the coolness of the shadows. Lady Lambert tended this garden herself, and her care was evident in the way the smooth path of river stones resembled a stream of flowing water amidst the blue-green juniper bushes and red-leaved maples in the garden. At the far end of the garden was the estate’s tea house, its sliding doors closed. Tommy was staring at the small building, imagining the many mighty samurai and esteemed daimyo who had shared tea inside. He did not hear Misa approach until she was just a few yards away and said his name softly.

“Misa-chan, what are you doing here?”

“I saw you come back here, so I followed you,” she said, blushing a little. “I hope it was not rude of me. I merely wonder how the repairs are progressing.”

“The work is going quickly. We will start rebuilding as soon as the stone arrives.”

“That is good,” she said, and came to sit beside him. In the cool of the shade, he could feel the heat radiating off her body, just inches from his. “Tommy, I am sorry if I offended you the other day. I did not mean to be so forward.”

“No, Misa, do not apologize. It is just that… I do not yet know all that is expected of me in my apprenticeship. I do not know what Master Lambert would say about such things.”

“I see,” Misa said, brightening somewhat. “Tommy, Master Lambert is himself no stranger to such trysts.” She glanced around quickly, as though to ensure they were alone, and dropped her voice. “I could show you, if you would like.”

Tommy hesitated. “What do you mean?”

She stood and held out her hand to him. “Come with me, but quietly.”

They entered the castle through a small doorway by the tea house. Misa turned through several different hallways until they were back in the corridor where the guest rooms were located. She motioned for him to be silent and tiptoed along the hall to the second room. Tommy followed behind and as they approached the door he could hear noises, almost as if a struggle was taking place inside. Misa indicated a slight gap where the screen door did not sit flush against the doorframe. Tommy crouched down to peer through the opening and nearly lost his balance in shock at what he saw.

Adam was standing over a cushioned divan. Beneath him was the stonemason’s son, bent over the arm of the chair. They were both completely unclothed, and the stonemason’s son was moaning and his whitened knuckles gripped tight to the wooden frame of the chair. Behind him Adam was snapping his hips forward, his hands wrapped around the waist of the stonemason’s son. They were…

Tommy’s entire body burned. He should not be seeing this, and yet… He sat back from the door and looked up at Misa, eyes wide. He knew what intercourse was, had heard enough whispers from the boys in the village who had older brothers. But he had never seen it. Yet here was his sensei, in the act, with another man. He was a second away from turning back to look again when Misa grabbed his arm and dragged him out the way they had come, not stopping until they were back in the garden.

She leaned back against the wall, catching her breath. “That is what your sensei thinks of such things,” she said, and her face and neck were flushed.

Tommy just stared at her, feeling the blood pounding in his ears. His body was hot, and above the confusion or shame or shock in his mind, there was also curiosity, and arousal. It was overwhelming and insistent and he stepped forward, pressed his mouth to Misa’s. He did not know what he was doing, and in the moment he did not care; when Misa parted her lips he did the same, and when she slid her tongue along his bottom lip he shuddered and pressed his body up against hers. After a moment she pushed him back, panting, and when he saw the trace of fear in her eyes he stepped back from her, nearly stumbling. “Misa, I am sorry! That was… I got carried away. I — ”

“Tommy, no,” she said, reaching out to grab at his arm, but he backed away from her.

“I should not have… Misa, please, I am sorry. I should go — ” And with that he turned and fled down the path toward the castle wall, leaving Misa to stare after him. He ran back to the stable, needing something to keep his hands busy. He set to work polishing Adam’s saddle, though it already shone, and he stared blindly into the deep chestnut brown of the leather while his hands worked and his mind raced. This morning he had come to the castle eager for the day. Since then he had had his first kiss, and seen his sensei having sex with another man. Somewhere, at the top of his mind, he knew these things were human nature and everyday occurrences, but still they overwhelmed him. He wished desperately for someone to tell him how to feel, because he was wildly uncertain. He knew not what conclusions to reach, so he dwelt instead on the sensations: the soft give of Misa’s mouth under his; the rush of fire in his gut at seeing Adam with the stonemason’s son; the way the ground no longer felt steady under his feet.

Shiro found him in the stable a short while later; the stone had arrived and the workers were gathering to begin reconstructing the wall. “You have put quite a shine on that saddle, Thomas,” he said with a laugh. Tommy was quiet as he followed Shiro back, and said little the rest of the day, pushing himself into the work until his arms nearly gave out from lifting stone after stone.

“Is something wrong, Thomas?” Shiro asked as Tommy mounted his horse in the evening and prepared for the ride home. Tommy simply shook his head, gave a brief goodbye and nudged the horse toward the gate.

_I am not cut out to be a samurai_ , was all he could think as he rode home. _A samurai should be brave, and yet here I am, afraid and unable to control my own emotions. Adam does not shy away from what he feels. Even Misa does not. And yet all I can do is run_.

By the time he arrived home he felt sick from shame at his weakness and confusion. He ate quietly and went straight to bed. In the morning he returned to the castle and started immediately on the stonework. He did not seek Shiro, nor Adam, nor Misa. _At least I can be useful to the daimyo by working on the repair_ s, he reasoned. _This labor does not require bravery. It suits me far better_.

  


**Chapter 6**

On a chilly night nearly years ago, a dark-haired young samurai apprentice approached his master. The boy, not quite twelve, was shaking with fear, but he steeled himself and moved forward, determined. He recited to himself the myriad reasons he should not be afraid: _I am a samurai apprentice. I have no fear. I want this. He wants this. It is inevitable, just as death is inevitable._.

The master had been sitting on his futon, reading, when the boy came to him. “I am ready,” the apprentice said, and untied the sash of his kimono. He slid the garment off, letting it fall to the floor, and stood before his master in nothing but the thin pair of silk crepe trousers in which he usually slept. 

The samurai put aside the parchments he had been reading and looked up, regarding the apprentice closely. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” The apprentice was sure to say it firmly, with no trace of doubt in his voice.

“Then come to me.”

The boy stepped forward and dropped to his knees. He leaned in, squeezed his eyes shut and pressed their lips together. After a few moments, he pulled back; his face was hot and he could not make himself meet his master’s gaze. Though the boy knew this to be his fated path, he was uncertain how to proceed. 

His sensei understood his hesitation and reached up to cup the boy’s face gently with his hand. “Let me show you.”

The master rejoined the kiss, then ran his tongue lightly over the boy’s lower lip. The apprentice gasped, and as he opened his mouth the samurai pressed his tongue inside. The apprentice met it with his own, and suddenly every bit of the fear that had wracked him burned away in the heat coursing through his body. He let himself go, heady with the sensation of it. His breath quickened and when he could stand it no longer he broke the kiss, panting for air and clinging with fingers tangled into the silk of his master’s kimono, praying for his heart to slow its wild rhythm.

Master Nakata smiled at his apprentice and ran his fingers down the boy’s bare arm. “I have waited so long for this, Adam.”

  


The memory of his first night with Master Nakata crept into his mind as Adam lay awake, tossing and turning. The remembrance was often clouded over with nostalgia or melancholy, sparked by something that reminded him of his sensei — a man who looked like Nakata, or who wore a kimono of the same sky-blue silk. Tonight, however, the memory left him feeling weak and cowardly. At only eleven years of age, he found the courage to go to his sensei and begin a relationship that became his whole world. Now, at twenty-one, he was running from the same thing, letting it drive him into the arms of another.

Earlier today, when he had been with the stonemason’s son — Kaito, a friend since they were boys — Adam had sought relief from his frustration, a quenching of his baser needs. It was far from the first time he had taken a lover to satisfy his desires. Kaito, in fact, was a common dalliance. But this time Adam knew he was seeking more than merely an outlet to exhaust his passions. The coward in him had hoped his growing feelings for Tommy were rooted in his lack of sexual release of late. But now, afterward, he was no less drawn to Tommy; deep down, he had known this would be so, and he chastised himself for being fool enough to think otherwise. His tryst left him dissatisfied; though Kaito’s skin was young and smooth and pliant, he was not the one Adam wanted.

For several days after, Adam was moody and aloof. The stonemason himself was now overseeing the rebuilding of the castle wall, and Adam was glad of it. He could not bear lingering at the worksite watching Tommy, shirtless and sweating, dutifully carrying stone after stone, sinews stretched and bare skin smeared with dirt and dust. Adam wanted so badly to go and _take_ , but with Tommy he could not. Part of him — the same reckless part that spent a year hunting down rebels in the Western prefectures to escape the pain of Master Nakata’s death — feared he would not have the restraint to wait for Tommy to come to him. So he made his greetings to Tommy in the mornings and evenings, and spent his days hidden away inside the castle.

Several commoners had been arriving over the past few days to report damages from the same rainstorm which had brought down the tree and, under its weight, the courtyard wall. Adam seized the opportunity to escape the confines of the castle. He went to the daimyo and offered to investigate the most pressing problems himself. “What of your apprentice?” his father asked. “Will you take him with you?”

“He is providing valuable assistance in rebuilding the wall, father,” Adam explained easily, having rehearsed answers to his father’s likely questions in advance. “I should return in two days. By then the wall will be finished and I shall resume his training.”

“Very well,” Lord Lambert agreed. 

That afternoon Adam found Tommy at the worksite. “Thomas, I must leave in the morning. Several roads and bridges throughout the prefecture were washed out by the storm, and the daimyo is sending me to survey the damage. I will be gone for a few days. When I return, the wall should be finished and we will continue your training.”

Tommy nodded feebly. Though he had taken on some color from so many days out in the sun, his expression was still wan. “Yes, my lord.”

Adam could not tell if the boy was dejected or simply exhausted from working so hard. He tried to put it out of his mind. _When I return, I will confront this_ , he told himself sternly as he headed back to the castle. _A few days of solitude out in the countryside will help me clear my mind and plan my strategy. I am a samurai, and I am obligated to train my apprentice. I must overcome my weakness and move forward_. 

He left early, before Tommy had even arrived at the castle, and that night he camped in a stretch of meadow bordering the forest. As he lay on the cold ground, he did not find the peace that such solitude usually brought him; it was replaced by something he had fought hard these past three years to vanquish: loneliness. 

Since he lost his sensei, Adam had not allowed himself to develop feelings for another. His dalliances with young men like the stonemason’s son were frenzied entanglements behind closed doors where discretion took precedence and conversations were little more than whispered directives and hushed grunts. This absence of intimacy was intentional; he wanted nothing to do with any sort of bond that could end in loss that could pierce him to his core the way Master Nakata's death had. 

But in truth, these thoughts were selfish, and weak. _I am afraid. I am letting fear compromise my responsibilities. This is not the way Master Nakata taught me. This is not the way I swore to uphold_. 

Adam took a deep breath and set his resolve. First, he must teach Tommy about the full extent of the relationship between apprentice and master. He would explain _wakashudo_ to the boy, and then he must step back and wait. He would have to accept it if Tommy chose not to come to him. And if Tommy did come, he would have to accept the possibility that one day he would lose Tommy as well, whether it be in battle or simply because it would be best for Tommy to move on. 

_Master Nakata always did what was best for me. Even when it was painful for us both. Now I must do what is best for Tommy, no matter how much I fear the aftermath. Fear is not the way of the samurai_.

Adam spent the next day surveying the countryside for signs of damage from the storm. He finished by nightfall, and the following morning he headed back to the castle. On the way, as something of a preliminary gesture, he stopped at Tommy’s family farm for a brief visit, to reassure his parents that Tommy was doing well. They were grateful for his visit, and it put him in better spirits for what still lay ahead of him. Back at the castle, he would report to his father on the need for road and bridge repairs throughout the prefecture, and then after the midday meal he would talk to Tommy. 

Shiro came up to take Adam’s horse when he rode through the castle gates. “Good morning, my lord! It is good to see you return safely from your mission.”

“Thank you, Shiro. It is good to see you as well. Tell me, where is Thomas?” Adam had scanned the courtyard and the stables, but his apprentice was not in sight.

“He went back to the storage barn to bring more hay. It may be a while until he returns. But you should speak to him, my lord. He has been very glum of late.”

Adam did not expect the sharp reaction he had to Shiro’s statement. “Is he alright? Shiro, tell me, what is wrong with Thomas?” 

“I do not know, my lord. He is not ill, not in body anyway. But he has been very quiet for several days now. And the enthusiasm he had for his work is, well, lessened of late. He will not talk to me. Perhaps he will tell you what is wrong.”

Adam hoped Tommy did not think he had abandoned him again. “Thank you for your candor, Shiro. I plan to speak to Thomas this afternoon. I only hope his distress is nothing I have caused.”

Shiro bowed his head and led Adam’s horse away. Adam headed into the castle, agitated now, and made straight for the main chamber to speak with his father.

The report took interminably long, as there were several roads in need of repair and his father had many questions. By the time Adam made it back outside the midday meal was ending and most of the servants had returned to their work. Tommy was not amongst the stragglers still finishing their meals, so Adam walked at a quick clip over to the stable, where he found Shiro was outside by the trough. “Shiro, have you seen Thomas?”

Shiro looked up and shook his head. “Try the rock garden, my lord. He has been going there after the meal. He says he wants to be alone.” 

Adam nodded and hurried around the side wall of the castle to the garden. Concern hastened his steps; Shiro’s words today had left him doubly vexed. _I have been so lost in my own worries that I have been blind the distress my poor young apprentice is enduring. I must put this right immediately_. 

But when he rounded the corner, all those thoughts fled from him like a frightened animal, and in their place rose a feeling that seethed and burned in his guts. Tommy was there, yes, but he was not alone. Misa was with him, her body caught between his and the wall. Their faces, their mouths were pressed together; her hand was in his hair, and his hand was sliding up her side, closer and closer to her breast.

“Thomas!” Adam yelled, barely able to hear his own voice over the blood pounding in his ears. Thomas jumped back, and they both looked at Adam with eyes wide with terror. “Misa, get back to the kitchen. I must speak to Thomas alone.”

Misa scurried away, bright red and terrified, and disappeared through the doorway to the castle. When she was gone from view, Adam turned to Tommy, sick from the thunder of his heart in his chest. Tommy stepped forward, already apologizing, but Adam grabbed his upper arm vice-tight, and Tommy’s mouth slammed shut. “What are you doing here, Thomas? Shirking your duties to run off with some kitchen maid? That is not the way I have taught you. You should be ashamed.”

“Adam, I am sorry, I — ”

Adam jerked his arm hard, cutting him off again. “I think it might be more appropriate if you go back to calling me sensei.”

Adam watched it, the flicker as Tommy’s expression changed from fear to anguish. Adam could see the tears welling in Tommy’s eyes and it was too much to take; he needed to get away before he said or did something more he regretted. He let go of Tommy’s arm and pushed him away. “Go back to the stable, Thomas. Do whatever work Shiro gives you. I will find you later.”

“Sensei, please, let me explain.”

“Not now, Thomas. Go!” He barked out the last word far more harshly than he intended. This had all gone so wrong. He had come to restore the footing on which he and Tommy stood; instead it was crumbling away beneath them. 

Tommy ran, and when he was gone Adam sat down on the bench and buried his face in his hands. Once the adrenaline began to recede, his mind replayed for him the look of pain on Tommy’s face. _Why did I treat him so harshly? Am I so reckless that I let a touch of jealousy turn me into a tyrant? My father was right. Empathy, patience, prudence, wisdom — I have none of these things_.

Adam sat for a long while, alternately trying to calm his racing pulse and berating himself for losing his temper so rashly. He felt cruel. Master Nakata had trained him to be ferocious in battle, but he also taught that there is never a place in this world for cruelty. Especially not toward those you hold close to you. He looked out over the garden and tried to pull some of its peace into his soul. He had to fix this, he knew. He prayed Tommy would forgive him.

He returned to the castle, looking first for some water to slake the painful dryness in his throat. In the dining hall he saw Misa from the corner of his eye. She was already trying to duck from view when he called her name. He watched her small frame stiffen, and he walked toward her, calling her again but softly, plaintively. She turned as he approached, and he could see she was trembling. 

“Misa, please, do not be alarmed. I called to you because I wanted to apologize. I… I over-reacted. I was just… surprised.”

Misa was still shaking, but he could see a little of the tension drain from her face. “I am so sorry, my lord,” she said, the words rushing out in a torrent. “Punish me if you will, but please be gentle with Thomas. I could not bear it if he came to trouble because of me. This is all my fault, my lord, I am so sorry! It was only a kiss. Nothing more.”

Adam paused for a moment. “What do you mean, it is your fault?”

“I talked him into it. He was hesitant, he was so worried about what you would think. I told him you would not be upset by it. I knew — ” She stopped short and blushed, dropping her eyes to the floor. 

Adam leaned forward and touched her arm gently, trying to be reassuring. “Please Misa, I will not be angry. I am afraid my relationship with Thomas is in great turmoil, and I must fix it. I need to know what happened.”

She continued to stare at the floor, but started slowly, forcing out words a few at a time. “I knew about you and the stonemason’s son. I told Thomas that if you were allowed such trysts, then he should be too.”

This time it was Adam’s turn to blush. He had not realized anyone knew of his relations with Kaito. And why would Tommy doubt Misa’s line of reasoning? Adam had reprimanded him for something the boy had not thought wrong. 

“Thank you, Misa. And please do not worry. You are in no trouble.”

“This will not hurt my father and his orchards?”

Adam smiled; she was a sweet girl. “Of course not, my dear. I only request you refrain from asking my apprentice for any more kisses.” He laughed as he said it, though his intent was clear.

“Yes, my lord.”

Adam turned away, meaning to go straight to the stable and find Tommy. But when he entered the main hall, he stopped dead as his father roared his name. “Adam! I must speak with you immediately!”

Adam was caught off guard. What had happened that his father was so upset? The daimyo was already stalking toward him. He took Adam by the forearm and led him into a small antechamber, closing the door for privacy. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” his father hissed, seething but keeping his voice low. The walls of this room were mere paper screens, and shouting would have been heard throughout the main hall.

“What do you mean, father? What happened?”

“Thomas resigned! He came to me not ten minutes ago and asked me to release him from his bond to you. He said he did not have the fortitude to become a samurai; that he was sorry for wasting our time. Now tell me what happened! What did you do to that poor boy?”

“I am sorry, father. I lost my temper with him, but I was just on my way to apologize. I did not think it would come to this!”

“Go now, catch him, and apologize. He only left a few minutes ago,” the daimyo said sternly. Adam took a step to leave, but his father laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Adam, you had better pray that he comes back.”

“Yes, father,” Adam said; he would indeed pray for that very thing. He flung the screen open and dashed from the room. 

“Shiro, my horse!” Adam cried with strained breath when he reached the stable.

“Yes, sir,” Shiro called. Adam flung himself into the saddle as soon as the horse was ready. 

“Are you going after Thomas?” Shiro asked, rather forwardly, as he fed the bit into the horse’s mouth and handed Adam the reins.

“Yes, Shiro, wish me luck.”

“Godspeed,” Shiro replied, giving the horse a swift smack on the flank to hurry it toward the road.

Adam launched into a full gallop as soon as he cleared the gate, and it only took a few minutes until a horse came into view ahead. It had the coloring of Tommy’s steed, but the animal was simply standing on the side of the road, riderless. Adam slowed as he approached and scanned the woods on either side of the path. Soon he made out Tommy, sitting with his back to the road on a fallen tree trunk just a few yards into the forest.

Adam drew his horse up beside Tommy’s and dismounted. “Tommy,” he called. He approached slowly, and as he drew closer he could see the boy’s back heaving and he could hear his choked-out sobs. The sound cut like a knife in Adam’s chest, and he gave in to haste, closing the distance to his apprentice with a few long strides. He circled in front of Tommy and dropped to his knees on the forest floor. “Please, Tommy, I came to apologize.”

Tommy took a deep breath before lifting his tear-streaked face and red eyes to Adam’s. There was so much hurt there, and the pain in Adam’s gut was akin to what it must feel to be run through with a sword. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tommy — whether to comfort himself or the boy, he did not know — pulling Tommy tight to his chest like he had wanted to so many times. “Tommy, please, I am so, so sorry. I was wrong to get so upset. Misa told me what happened.”

Tommy did not return the embrace, but once his breathing became more even Adam released him, hoping Tommy would hear him out. When their eyes met again, Tommy’s were full of questions.

“You were right to be angry, Master Lambert. It is best this way. I do not have the mettle to be a samurai. I am too afraid. I am too weak.”

“Tommy, no!” Adam said firmly. “You have at least as much skill as I had at your age, and I began my training much earlier than you.” Tommy looked at him with clear disbelief. “I realize there is much I had the benefit of learning, even before my apprenticeship began. There are many things you were never taught, and that is my failing, not yours.”

Tommy stared at his hands in his lap, speaking softly. “I have many questions, but I have been afraid to ask.”

Adam raised his hand and lifted Tommy’s chin so their eyes met. “Tommy, you should not fear me. A samurai and his apprentice are companions, brothers, even more.”

“I do not always feel you want me as your companion,” Tommy said, turning his head away.

Adam sighed heavily. It was time. “Tommy, I know I have been keeping my distance from you, but it is no reflection on your abilities. I have done it… because I was afraid.”

“You are not afraid of anything, master.”

“Call me Adam, Tommy, please.” Adam shifted a little and continued, softly. “And you are wrong. I _am_ afraid.”

“What does a great warrior like you have to fear?”

Adam sat down on the trunk beside his apprentice, and took a deep breath before he began. “First, I must explain something to you about the relationship between a samurai and his apprentice. The bond between them has many facets. They are comrades in arms; they are brothers; and, many times, they are lovers.”

Adam paused, waiting for some response from Tommy, but there was none. Adam gathered himself and continued, drawing upon his own childhood lessons.

“It is called wakashudo, this bond of love between a samurai and his apprentice. Wakashudo is love in the absence of fear, it is love in the face of death, and that is why it is the way of the samurai. Our lives are given to the service of our lords, they are not our own. Wakashudo teaches the apprentice to give himself over to his master without fear, just as he may be called at any time to give himself over to death without fear. And it teaches the master to become selfless, to put his apprentice above himself, just as he must put his lord above himself.”

After a long pause, Tommy finally spoke. “Does this happen between all samurai and their apprentices?”

“No,” Adam said. “Tradition dictates that the apprentice must approach the master when he is ready. It can take years, or it may not happen at all. The apprentice can initiate it, or he can choose not to.”

“What happens if the apprentice chooses not to?”

“Then the samurai continues to train the apprentice, and they are comrades and brothers only. And friends, I hope.”

“Did you… did you have this relationship with your sensei?”

Adam closed his eyes. “Yes. I loved my sensei deeply. He was my world. His death was the most painful thing I have ever felt, worse than any battle wounds. That, Tommy, is why I pushed you away. I was afraid of feeling the pain of such loss again. But lovers or not, I realize now that that is precisely what I need you to teach me, to conquer that fear and become selfless.”

“Do you want that? Do you want us to be lovers?”

Adam swallowed hard and felt heat rising on his skin. He would not meet Tommy’s eyes. “I confess that I do. But if that is not what you choose, you must know that I will train you just the same. I swear it on my honor.”

Tommy sat back a little and wiped at his tears. Adam stood to give him space. “First, Tommy, you must decide whether you wish to continue as my apprentice. I know this is a great deal for you to consider, so I want you to return home and take as much time as you need to think.”

Adam unfastened the gold-hilted wakizashi from his belt and presented the sheathed blade to Tommy. “Here, I want you to take this. If you choose to come back, then you can return this blade to me, and when you finish your training both of these blades will be my gift to you when you become a samurai. But if you do not return, then you may keep this wakizashi to remember me by.”

“But Adam —”

Adam ran his fingers over the ivory hilt of the katana still suspended from his belt. “These swords were given to me by Shogun Tokugawa himself. If I have failed you as a sensei, then I do not deserve such a gift, for I do not possess the courage the Shogun believed I did.”

“If these swords were a gift from the Shogun then they should remain together! It seems wrong to split such a pair.”

Adam knelt down and pressed the blade into Tommy’s hand. “I agree, Tommy, I think they do belong together. But that decision is yours to make, not mine.” With that, Adam stood and walked to his horse. 

“Farewell, Tommy. I pray I will see you again soon, but I will understand if you choose not to return to me.” He mounted his steed and started a fast canter back up the road; he needed to leave before he threw himself at Tommy’s feet and begged the boy to come back.

  


**Chapter 7**

Tommy sat a long while, staring at the crest of the road over which Adam had disappeared. It took a moment to sink in, how things had spiraled out of control when the day had started so ordinarily.

This morning he had arrived at the castle, setting straight to work and keeping to himself, as he had for several days now. He had little to say to Shiro or the other servants. All he could think of was Adam, naked and flushed and in the throes of passion with the stonemason’s son, and the feel of Misa’s skin under his fingers, her lips on his lips. _This is not why I am here_ , he kept rebuking himself. But the images would not fade; he felt adrift and less sure of himself than ever.

He also felt terribly guilty. He had been avoiding Misa for days now, but he knew he must apologize again for how rough he had been with her. As he worked in the stable that morning, the repairs to the wall finally complete, he resolved to speak to her, to tell her he was sorry. So as she brought out the midday meal, he whispered to her to meet him in the garden.

Fifteen minutes later he rounded the castle wall and saw her sitting on the bench, waiting for him. “Tommy,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I am glad you asked me to meet you. I feel terrible about what happened. I feel I pushed you into something you did not want.”

“No, Misa, I am the one who should apologize. I should not have… I should have been gentler. I went too far.” 

“Perhaps we both got carried away,” she said, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. He could see the pink blush rising in her cheeks. “Perhaps… we could try again? If you would like...”

Then everything blurred. He had expected Misa to be upset with him, but she was not. Her proposition caught him off guard. He could not say what made him think a second kiss would go more smoothly than the first, but he took her by the waist and brought their lips together. Hers were soft and parted under his, and she leaned back against the castle wall and pulled him to her. 

And then all of a sudden Adam was there, shouting Tommy’s name, and the rest was panic and a thrashing nausea in his belly. Had Adam not grabbed him by the arm he would have fallen to his knees in tears. 

Adam’s words — “I think it might be more appropriate if you go back to calling me sensei” — were the final push that shut down every other feeling Tommy had save shame and despair. When Adam told him to go, it was almost a relief. He could think of nothing but escaping this. _I was right all along. I am not fit to become a samurai. I belong back on the farm. I should never have left it_.

As he ran from the garden, everything suddenly became quite clear. He knew what he needed to do. A strange calm descended on him as he entered the castle through the front foyer and walked into the main hall. Lord Lambert was at his large desk on the dais, speaking quietly with a servant. Tommy approached and bowed to the daimyo. “Excuse me, my lord. May I speak with you for a moment?”

The daimyo dismissed the servant and turned to Tommy, smiling. “Young Thomas, how are you? I trust my son is training you well?”

“It is my training that I have come to speak with you about,” Tommy said flatly, and to his own ears he did not sound like himself. “I am ashamed to ask this, my lord, but I would like to be released from my apprenticeship. I do not believe I will make a fitting samurai. My skills are more suited to farm work.”

“Thomas, my son has told me you are quite adept,” Lord Lambert frowned at him. “What is this really about? Has he done something to upset you?”

“No, my lord,” Tommy said, his voice faltering. The daimyo’s words were weakening his resolve, but he had to push through this. “Master Lambert’s training has been faultless. I am simply not… not suited for this. I know this was a generous reward you gave to my family, and I am sorry that it was for naught. Please do not think less of my father for the weakness of his son.”

“Thomas — ”

“I am sorry, my lord. I have wasted enough of your time. I should go.” Tommy turned and rushed out of the main hall, his lungs burning like there was no air to breathe. His face stung with tears before he even made it outside. He ran to the stable and led his horse out, barely pausing to make sure the saddle and reins were secure before mounting. He heard his name from a distance and looked up to see Shiro hurrying toward him. “Goodbye, Shiro,” he called as he made for the gate. He wanted to say more, but he had to leave; he needed to get far away from this place.

He galloped out of sight of the castle before he drew his horse up on the side of the road, weakly sliding off the beast to lurch into the woods and vomit. Thankfully his canteen was still in his saddlebag; he rinsed the taste of bile from his mouth and splashed water on his face. He gave himself a few minutes to try to still the churning in his stomach, but as soon as he began to ride again the sickness came back and he had to stop. When his feet hit the ground this time they nearly gave out from under him, and it took all his energy to stagger a few feet into the woods toward a fallen tree trunk. No sooner did he sit down than the tears came back in a torrent, and all the fear and pain he had tried to keep in check came clawing out of his chest in tortured sobs. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, and when he opened them again, Adam was there. 

Tommy had been so deafened by his own emotions he had not even heard Adam approach. But Adam had come after him, was kneeling here in front of him. For a split second Tommy panicked, afraid Adam had come to rebuke him for leaving, but then Tommy saw the look on his face, the pain that was there. When he pulled Tommy into his arms it was like a fog had lifted, and for the first time Tommy could see beyond the chaos that had been closing in around him. 

He sat and listened as Adam explained himself, and things began to fall into place. Tommy had had so many questions, so much apprehension, and in just a few minutes Adam had cleared it all away. He sat stunned as Adam laid the wakizashi in his hands. Indeed, Adam had laid everything in his hands. Tommy realized in that moment that becoming a samurai meant he would have to give Adam everything in return. 

_Lovers._

When Adam had gone, Tommy recalled yet again the sight of Adam with the stonemason’s son, but for the first time he did what before he had not been brave enough to do. He imagined himself there with Adam, in place of the other man. This morning, Tommy would not have believed Adam would see him that way, would want him that way. _But he does. He told me himself_. A blaze of heat shot through Tommy’s body. It was fear, in part, but it was much more than that. He knew his body well enough at least to recognize physical desire. 

He stared down at the sword in his hand, running his fingertips over the smooth lacquered sheath. He had admired Adam’s swords on more than one occasion. They were a gift from the Shogun. _They must be among his most prized possessions. And yet he would give this to me so readily, with no assurance that I will return it_. 

Tommy breathed in the cool pine air of the forest as he regained his composure. After a drink of water he felt steady enough to finish the ride home. When he arrived his mother was working in the kitchen. “Tommy, you have come home early. Is everything alright?”

He excused himself with mumbled words about feeling ill and retreated to his room, carrying the wakizashi wrapped in a cloth so his mother would not see. He made sure to close the door tightly and sat upon the tatami mat on the floor. Slowly, reverently, he unwrapped the sword, unsheathed it so he could run his fingertip along the finely honed edge. When a knock came at the door it startled him from his thoughts, so much he nearly cut himself on the blade. He sheathed the weapon and tucked it underneath his mattress before bidding his visitor enter.

“Son?” his father said in a worried tone as he slid open the door. “Your mother said you looked unwell. Is anything the matter?”

Tommy sighed deeply, the emotional toll of the day still heavy on his shoulders. “Father, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” his father said, coming to sit beside him. “Tell me what is troubling you.”

“Why do you want me to become a samurai so badly?”

“Tommy,” his father said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You are so bright, so strong and brave, loyal and compassionate. You have all the talents a samurai requires. It would be a shame waste you on nothing but farm work.”

“You think I have the talents to become a samurai?” Tommy asked. _But father, how are you so sure? What do you see that I do not?_

“Of course I do! And so does your sensei. Master Lambert stopped to speak with me just this morning. He said he was very pleased with you.”

“He did?” Tommy was surprised; he had not known.

“He did not tell you?”

“No. Master Lambert and I — ” Tommy stopped, unsure of how to explain or where to begin. He was certain every vivid detail of the past few days would come pouring out of him if he let it.

“Did something happen?”

“We had a misunderstanding today, Master Lambert and I,” Tommy said in a stilted voice, pushing through the tightness in his throat. “I was upset, and I asked to be relieved of my apprenticeship.” It made him sick to say the words, and even sicker to see his father's reaction. 

“Tommy, why?” His father's words came weakly, and while his concern was evident, Tommy cringed at the disappointment that was now dimming his father’s visage. 

“They asked me not to go, both Master Lambert and the daimyo himself,” Tommy said quickly, eager to assuage his father's heartbreak. “I mean to go back. Tomorrow. I will humble myself before Lord Lambert and beg his forgiveness.”

“I will go with you, I will speak to the daimyo,” his father said firmly. But Tommy shook his head. 

“No, father, I know you wish to help, but I must do this myself. If I mean to become a samurai, I must fight my own battles.”

His father smiled. “Tommy, why do you doubt yourself? You are already braver than you think.”

Tommy blushed, but the reassurance from his father was heartening. “Father, there is another question I would like to ask you.”

“Of course.”

Tommy trained his eyes on the floor and felt the heat in his cheeks as he spoke in little more than a whisper. “Do you know what wakashudo is?” 

“Oh,” his father said with some surprise. “I am aware of the intimate relationship that can develop between a master and an apprentice. It is common among samurai as well as the Buddhist monks, and it even occurs among many tradesmen.”

Tommy frowned. “Why did you not tell me?”

“I am sorry, Tommy. I wish I could have prepared you more thoroughly,” his father said with a sigh. “I will tell you this, though I should not. When the daimyo came here and offered us your apprenticeship, he and I spoke at length. He asked me not to tell you, for now.”

“I do not understand.”

“His intention was not to leave you unprepared, son. He simply wanted to give you some time before such a relationship became an issue. You had no previous training, and so you would have far more to learn than most apprentices your age. And Master Lambert…” Tommy’s father paused. “The daimyo thought he might need time as well.”

“Why?”

“Tommy, you know that Master Lambert’s own sensei died in battle a few years ago?” Tommy nodded. “Master Lambert was deeply affected by the loss. He left on his own to go fight in the Western lands, and did not return or even send word for a full year. Lord Lambert expected it would take time for him to truly embrace his role as sensei and consider such a path with his own apprentice.”

Part of Tommy wished it had taken longer, wished he had more time. But he recalled the brittleness in Adam’s voice when he spoke of the pain of losing Master Nakata. Tommy found himself wanting to go to Adam now, to offer some sort of comfort. “What should I do, father?”

“The tradition of wakashudo dictates that the apprentice approaches the master when he is ready. You are the only one who can decide.”

“But how do I _know_?”

“Knowing what you want is often not the challenge, son. The challenge is conquering the doubt that stands between you and it.”

Tommy had to laugh at his father’s words. Doubt had been his master of late, a looming presence that clouded his thoughts. _Not always_ , he reminded himself. _Not when I am with Adam_. 

“Fate often sets us on the right path, though we may not see it until it is already under our feet,” his father said. “It was fate that you and Master Lambert became sensei and apprentice. You and he are very different in some ways, but alike in many others. Like you, he is brave and strong and full of compassion. I would not have agreed to your apprenticeship if I did not believe that to be true.”

Tommy nodded; he had a great deal to think about. 

His father made to stand, but paused and turned back to his son. “Before I go, let me tell you a story. I was not much older than you when your mother and I were betrothed. My father grew rice here on the farm; your mother's family owned a market in town. Our marriage was arranged to facilitate business.”

Tommy knew his uncle ran the shop in the village where their rice was sold. He had never known, however, that this economic connection was what brought his parents together. “What happened?”

“The first time I met your mother she was dressed in a ceremonial kimono, her face painted white and her hair swept up into elegant braids.” Tommy's father had a faraway look as he spoke. “She was beautiful, and I… I was too intimidated to even approach her. But then she took my hand, and smiled at me, and I knew everything would happen just as fate intended. And because of her I have had more blessings — the greatest of which is you, my son — than I could have dared hope.”

“Even if I would choose not to go back to my training?” 

“Your mother and I love you, Tommy. If you choose to give up your apprenticeship, that would not change. You must make your own choices, but that does not mean you are alone.” His father stood, squeezing Tommy gently on the shoulder as he made to leave. “Whatever you choose, just remember: there is no need for doubt.”

Tommy watched him leave, and then pulled the wakizashi from under the mattress. He withdrew the blade just a few inches from the sheath and caught his own reflection in the sharp steel. _The challenge is conquering the doubt that stands between you and what you want_. The doubt he had felt today had been maddening; he never wanted to feel so lost, so powerless again. Fear had nearly cost him everything. 

He snapped the blade back into its sheath with finality. For a long time he stared out the window, watching night fall and blanket the rice paddies in steadily darkening shades of green. When he could fight the urge no longer, he quietly slipped his hand inside the soft fabric of his trousers and thought of Adam as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. _Will it feel like this when he touches me? Will he want me to touch him too?_ He stroked himself and bit his lip to keep from moaning; the unknown, he began to realize, might be frightening, but the way it made his pulse pound was thrilling too.

Tommy slept fitfully that night with the wakizashi clutched to his chest, his body restless and his mind anxious. In the morning he rose early, eager to get to the castle and set things back on the proper path.

As soon as he arrived at the castle he entered the main hall and approached the daimyo at his desk. Tommy dropped to his knees, prostrating himself. “Lord Lambert,” he said contritely, “I come to apologize for my behavior yesterday. My words were said in haste. I humbly beg that you allow me to withdraw my request so I may return to my apprenticeship.”

“Please, Thomas, you may rise.” Lord Lambert stood and walked up to Tommy; his tone was gentle and he laid a reassuring hand on Tommy’s arm. “I am thankful you have reconsidered. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Tommy said, bowing deeply though it was not enough to show his gratitude. “Please, sir, if there is anything I can do to repay this great kindness, I am at your disposal.”

“I only ask that you go with haste to see my son. He has been in great distress since you left. Go put his mind at ease.” 

“Of course, my lord.”

Tommy hurried out to retrieve the wakizashi from his saddlebag, then forced himself to walk calmly toward the wing of the castle that housed the quarters of the daimyo and his family. He had passed through here before briefly, though he had never entered any of the rooms. He treaded softly and took a deep breath when he reached the door of the chamber he knew to be Adam’s. He rapped lightly on the screen and his heart leapt when Adam’s voice rang out from inside, bidding him enter.

He slid the door open to find Adam sitting by the window, staring up at the mountainside that loomed over the back of the castle. A gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of pine into the room. Tommy swallowed hard and stepped forward, clutching the wakizashi tight in his hands.

“Good morning, sensei.”

Adam jumped to his feet. “Tommy? What… What brings you here?”

Tommy held out the gold-hilted blade. “A samurai should always carry two swords. A katana is not complete without a wakizashi.”

Adam’s eyes fell on the sword, then fixed on Tommy’s face, searching. After a long moment he spoke. “Just as a master is not complete without his apprentice.” His voice was quiet but tense. 

“Then it is fortuitous the daimyo has already agreed to reinstate my apprenticeship.” Tommy set the dagger on the small table by the door and walked forward, stopping when only inches remained between them. He faced Adam fully, looking up into his wavering blue eyes. “You said I could return your wakizashi and resume my training, and that is what I have come here to do, with no more reservations. Tradition dictates, after all, that the apprentice must come to the master.”

“Tommy, what are you saying?” 

“Wakashudo. You said the apprentice approaches the master when he is ready.”

Adam shook his head. “You do not need to do this to resume your training, Tommy. I did not mean for you to think that.”

Tommy fought the urge to reach out, to touch. “I know that, Adam. I am here because I am ready.”

Adam did not speak, but he seemed pained, as though something was stopping him from believing Tommy’s words. _I must show him there is no need for doubt_.

“When I first began my apprenticeship, I believed that to be a samurai, one must have no fear. But I was wrong. I have learned that a true samurai is not great because he is fearless; rather, he is great because he faces his fear and overcomes it. I want to do that, and I need you to show me how.” Tommy reached up, finally, and touched his fingers lightly to Adam’s cheek. “Show me everything.”

Time slowed as Adam lifted his hands to Tommy’s face. An eternity passed in the brief moment it took for Adam to lean down and meet Tommy’s just-parted lips with his own. The kiss was only still pressure at first, until Tommy could no longer stand the anticipation. He shifted forward to bring their bodies together and wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. The contact seemed to trigger something in Adam. He slid his hand up into Tommy’s hair, tugging just slightly to tip Tommy’s head back. Tommy yielded to Adam’s hands, and to his mouth as Adam slid his tongue across Tommy’s lips and inside. This was nothing like kissing Misa. With Adam it was as though there was no air in the room, no light and no sound; Adam overwhelmed every sense as though he were enveloping Tommy completely.

  


**Chapter 8**

 _What if he does not return?_ Leaving Tommy in the forest had felt like cutting off an arm, and since that painful moment Adam had been riddled with doubt. _You would have no one to blame but yourself if he does not come back. You were so worried about what you had to lose, you wound up driving him away._ He knew Tommy needed time. And yet every passing minute ate away at Adam’s hope. 

He spent the next morning attempting to meditate, to will away his apprehension and find the fortitude to be patient. He had not left his room, so when a knock came at the door he assumed it was his mother coming to encourage him to eat, or a servant sent by his father with some duty to perform. 

When he heard Tommy’s voice he swore it was a dream. Not even a full day had passed and yet there Tommy stood, shoulders squared, voice quiet but firm, grasping Adam’s sword in his long, nervous fingers. When Tommy approached him, laid a hand on his face and asked for everything, Adam could not believe it to be real. 

Dream or no, he could not fight the urge to lean down and press his lips to Tommy’s at last. He wanted… he _wanted_. When Tommy pressed in close, Adam helplessly threaded his hands into the boy’s hair and kissed him deeply. Tommy tasted of sugar cane and smelled of fresh air and earth and horses from his ride. It was a heady mix that weakened Adam’s restraint. He tore himself away, fearful of losing himself in it.

But as Adam pulled back, Tommy dug his fingers in to Adam’s garments and would not let go. He looked up at Adam, panting, and his voice sounded desperate when he spoke. “Do not stop, Adam. Please…”

_How can I say no when he begs for it?_ Adam pressed kisses to Tommy’s neck, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh there. He moved lower, down to the hollow of Tommy’s collarbone, pulling aside the fabric of Tommy’s tunic. He wanted Tommy bare, he wanted to run his hands and his mouth over Tommy’s smooth chest, stomach, hips. The desire was spreading, snaking hot tendrils through Adam’s belly; he was about to stop himself, while he still could, when Tommy untied his sash and dropped it to the ground. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as the front of Tommy’s garment fell open to reveal his young, pale skin. Tommy lifted his hand to remove the tunic, but Adam stilled his movement. 

“Please,” Adam said, his voice hushed. “Let me.”

Tommy let his arm fall to his side as Adam slid warm hands up under the fabric, slipping it off as he ran his fingertips down over the skin of Tommy’s shoulders. Once the garment had fallen to the floor, Adam led Tommy to the cushioned chaise in the room. “Lie down, and let me show you. I promise I will stop anytime you ask.”

Tommy lay on the chaise, shivering when the cool brocade fabric came in contact with his bare skin. Adam dropped to his knees, and he barely had the patience to let Tommy settle himself before Adam’s hands were on his chest, dragging gently over his flesh, over every inch of skin, every rib, every muscle. When his fingers grazed over Tommy’s nipples, Tommy jerked up into the touch and Adam had to remind himself to breathe. _Slowly, slowly. This is for him…_ He leaned down to kiss Tommy again and slid his hands lower still, and when he skimmed the sensitive skin below Tommy’s navel, Tommy whimpered into his mouth. 

Adam sat back, brushing fingers through Tommy’s hair. “Have you ever been intimate like this with anyone, Tommy?” Embarrassed, Tommy blushed pink as he shook his head.

“This was new to me too, the first time with my sensei,” Adam said, wanting to ease Tommy’s anxiety. “Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. Just trust me and let yourself go. Let me show you how good it can feel.” 

Tommy took a deep breath and nodded, and Adam began sliding his hand down the outside of Tommy’s leg, over the rough fabric of his trousers. Adam watched Tommy’s face for any sign of hesitation as he pulled his hand back up slowly, shifting toward the inside of Tommy’s thigh. The anticipation was palpable, painful almost. He moved his hand closer, and his heart was racing as he watched Tommy’s mouth fall open and his eyes grow wide. _Slowly, slowly_ , Adam kept repeating to himself, but Tommy’s body was tense and he was biting his lip and finally Adam could no longer hold back. He pressed his palm against the front of Tommy’s trousers, where his hard cock strained against the fabric; Tommy moaned and dug his fingers into the cushions of the chaise.

“Do you want me to stop?” Adam managed to whisper. He let out a breath in relief when Tommy shook his head vigorously, staring up at Adam with pleading eyes. _Thank the heavens, because I am not sure I have the strength to stop now._

“I never told you this,” Adam said breathlessly as he yanked at the tie of Tommy’s trousers. It came loose and Adam started shoving down the fabric, trying hard to keep control of his own desires as Tommy’s cock sprang free. “During our hunting trip, when you went to the creek to bathe… I came upon you there, lying naked on a rock, touching yourself. I wanted to go to you so badly, touch you, just like this…”

Adam wrapped his hand fully around Tommy’s cock, hot bare skin to hot bare skin, and Tommy threw his head back. His mouth stretched open, wide but silent, and Adam just watched him, enthralled by how beautiful he was like this. When Adam started squeezing his cock lightly and rubbing his thumb over the head, Tommy snapped his hips up and groaned. “Good, good,” Adam said gently. “Let your body do as it pleases. Do not hold back.”

Adam started working his hand up the length of Tommy’s cock, dragging the wetness from the tip back down. Tommy was breathless and writhing and his lips were red and wet and parted, so flawless, so innocent it made Adam’s chest ache. “I do not know what I would have done if you had not come back to me,” Adam whispered, the words falling from his lips. To stop himself he pressed his mouth to Tommy’s throat, Tommy’s pulse pounding under his tongue.

“Adam!” Tommy cried out, and it cut through Adam’s desire enough to make him slow his hand and look up at Tommy. He saw the struggle on Tommy’s face, how he was trying to hold on.

“Do not fight it, Tommy. Let go for me.” Adam pumped his hand faster, and Tommy’s eyes were wide and he was thrashing and gasping for air.

Finally, Tommy let go. He moaned wildly as he came, and Adam coaxed him gently through it, whispering praise in his ear. Tommy laid there, chest heaving and blinking up at Adam, who brushed his fingers lightly along Tommy’s cheek and smiled. 

Adam waited for Tommy to catch his breath before he leaned in to kiss him again, long and slow and empty of tension. Tommy brought his hand up to rest on Adam's shoulder, and when Adam broke the kiss Tommy was looking up at him with a dazed smile. "Are you alright?" Adam asked, running a thumb over Tommy's swollen, wet lip. 

Tommy chuckled, and the blush in his cheeks darkened again. "Yes," he said quietly, trailing his hand down Adam's arm. "I knew I needed to come back to you."

Tommy’s words struck something deep in Adam. Every grain of hesitation he had felt seemed suddenly a thousand miles, a thousand years away. There was only this moment, and this perfect boy in his arms. 

He wanted to stay there for hours, but outside the bell for the midday meal began to ring and brought them both back to reality. "Let me fetch a cloth," Adam said, rising. Tommy pushed up on his elbows and watched as Adam wiped his stomach clean and adjusted his clothing back into place. 

When he finished, Tommy looked up at him with some trepidation. "What now?”

Adam settled on the chaise next to Tommy and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin against Tommy’s forehead. "Now you continue your training, and wakashudo is a part of that, when you want it to be."

“Will I go back to training with Shiro?”

That made Adam pause. The idea of spending his days separate from Tommy was no longer appealing. Though he had no strategy prepared, he knew it was time to move forward. "No, I think it is time I begin training you myself."

"Do you mean it?" 

"Tomorrow we shall give you a sword and see how you fare. I would be remiss not to at least teach you some defense. Though we have had peace for several years now, it is a samurai's duty to always be on guard. I shall gather the equipment and be waiting for you in the morning."

Tommy looked up at him with big, bright eyes. “Thank you, sensei.”

Adam reluctantly withdrew his arms from around Tommy's warm body. He caught Tommy by the chin, placing one last kiss at the corner of his mouth. "You will not be sorry that you chose to come back, Tommy. I will make certain of it.”

Tommy smiled, his eyes still glassy and his face still flushed. “I know.”

Adam watched Tommy leave the room, still a little surprised at how readily Tommy had chosen to give himself over. It was humbling, and Adam pledged to himself that he would not take advantage of it. He forced himself up, straightening his garments before he left the room. He kept himself busy with his father’s administrative affairs for the rest of the day, but his mind drifted back over and over to Tommy, stretched out and naked under his hands.

  


**Chapter 9**

Tommy spent the afternoon in a daze. He stumbled back to the stable, stopping to splash water on his face first to try to restore some clarity. He buried himself in work, his hands moving mechanically while he unsuccessfully tried to keep from mentally replaying his encounter with Adam over and over. His skin sparked hot at the memory of Adam’s hands on his body, and he got so lost in the memory that he jumped when Shiro came up behind him and called his name.

“Tommy, are you alright? What has been going on?”

Tommy explained some of what had happened, preferring to leave out the intimate details. Shiro, to his credit, did not pry. Rather, he clapped Tommy on the arm and smiled broadly. “I am glad you came back. And I am glad that Master Lambert has finally taken on your training. It is as it should be. Though I will miss your help here.”

That evening as he rode home Tommy thought again of Adam. _What other things will he teach me? How long until he touches me like that again?_

He was anxious in the morning, but Adam was waiting for him. They rode about twenty minutes west to a wide, flat expanse of meadow that was still uncultivated. There they tied their horses under a cropping of trees and Adam pulled two wooden swords from the long satchel on his horse. 

They moved out into the field, under the warm morning sun, and started with the basics: how to hold the hilt of the sword correctly; proper stance; keeping up one’s guard. When Adam would show him a stance he would press his body in behind Tommy’s to adjust his position, and Tommy would flush and try not to tremble at the contact. Adam would take his hands and bend his fingers just so around the hilt of the sword, and Tommy would swallow hard and try not to think of Adam’s hands wrapped around his cock. 

Finally they got to sparring, and Tommy tried to keep his mind on the task at hand. Adam began with some very basic attacks, slowed down considerably, and showed Tommy the proper way to block with his sword. It was challenging but exhilarating, and Adam began moving faster, praising Tommy for keeping up. 

“Good, Tommy! You are very quick, use your speed to block and then push back against my sword.” The cool breeze carried the clash of their swords over the grasses of the meadow as they practiced. They were breathing heavy before long and the sun was growing much warmer as it travelled higher in the morning sky. Finally Adam paused to wipe the sweat from his brow and called to Tommy to rest for a while. “Let us sit in the shade and have some water.”

Tommy’s arms were tired and he was hot but the adrenaline was still coursing in his blood as he followed Adam to the shade of the trees. Adam took his canteen from his horse’s saddlebag and handed it first to Tommy. He took a long drink and when looked up he saw that Adam was stripping off his tunic. He stood there staring with a mouthful of water, forgetting for a moment to swallow as he took in the blanket of freckles over Adam’s broad chest, the chisel of muscle down his stomach, the dark swatch of hair under his navel. Adam took the canteen from him and Tommy watched as he tipped it back, watched the long stretch of his neck and the way his throat constricted as he drank. Tommy could feel his pulse in his ears and he suddenly wanted to know how hot Adam’s skin was, how the hair on Adam’s chest would feel under his fingers, what Adam would do if Tommy touched him.

Tommy’s eyes were still rooted to Adam’s torso when Adam said his name. “Tommy?”

Words would not come to him, so Tommy silently stepped forward and reached out a hand, tracing a rivulet of sweat down Adam’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of muscle and bone and sinew and the heat that radiated into his fingers. He stopped at the bottom of Adam’s ribs and looked up uncertainly. But Adam was already pulling him close, snaking a hand up under the fabric of Tommy’s tunic to rest firmly on his hip. “You can touch me,” he said, tossing the canteen aside. “I want you to touch me.” 

Tommy brought both hands up to Adam’s throat, dragging them down harder this time over his neck and the firm lines of his collarbone, feeling for the places that were soft and the places that were hard under his touch. He almost expected the freckles to move along the path of his fingers like ripples in the water, but instead they stayed fixed to Adam’s skin and Tommy followed them lower this time, to where they collected along the dipping line of Adam’s hips. His fingers twitched, tempted to tug at Adam’s trousers and see how much further down the freckles went. 

“You can keep going, if you want to,” Adam said quietly, his hand squeezing tighter on Tommy’s hip. “Or we could just sit here in the shade together. Whatever you want, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed. He was nervous but he could feel how hard he already was, and it was getting difficult to separate wanting to touch Adam and wanting Adam to touch him. “Sit… please,” Tommy managed in a rough voice, and when they were both on the ground Tommy pressed up against him again, kissing him now that their height difference was mediated. Adam leaned back and let Tommy in, and when Adam parted his lips Tommy pressed his tongue into Adam’s mouth, thrilling at the sigh it drew from Adam. _What else will make him moan? What else will make him shudder for me?_ Tommy did not even blush at the thought; the pounding of his pulse was pushing his propriety aside. 

Tommy pressed Adam’s shoulders back and started kissing down his throat, down his chest, his skin salty and hot under Tommy’s mouth. He flicked his tongue over Adam’s nipple, drawing out a moan, and when he did it again Adam wrapped his fingers into Tommy’s hair. Adam reclined all the way back to lie flat on the grass, and Tommy traced his tongue all the way down to Adam’s waist, feeling Adam’s breath quicken as he moved lower. Finally Adam tugged Tommy back by his hair and looked down with desperation in his eyes. “Please, Tommy…”

This was a different pleasure altogether, seeing such desperation in Adam’s eyes. _For me_ , Tommy thought, and it brought with it a strange rush of power. He climbed up and stretched himself out alongside Adam, kissing him again as he tugged at the tie of Adam’s trousers. “Take them off,” Tommy said, and he watched Adam’s eyes widen at his words. 

“Are you sure?” 

Tommy was not sure what he was doing, but he was sure that he wanted to do it. “Will you… will you show me what to do?” he asked, blushing. 

“Of course.” Adam slid his trousers and undergarments down, revealing his cock lying fat and hard along his stomach. It was bigger than Tommy had expected, and at the base was a thick nest of dark hair, much more than Tommy had. The skin was tight, stretched, and with bluish veins standing out along the shaft and a glint of wetness at the head. 

Tommy froze for a moment, a burst of panic. _What do I do? Am I certain about this?_ He forced it down and reached out slowly, feeling Adam’s eyes on him as he wrapped his fingers around the hot flesh. Adam jerked under his hand and let out a shudder. “Tommy…” Adam rasped, and Tommy looked up to see him propped up on his elbows, watching intently. Tommy adjusted his grip and began to slide his hand up tentatively, and then back down. _This is not so different from touching myself_ , he thought, and moved his hand faster.

Adam’s breathing was ragged and he clenching his jaw, and after a minute he looked up at Tommy with anguish creasing his face. “Tommy, can I… can I show you?”

Tommy nodded, and Adam raised his hand and wrapped it around Tommy’s, closing them both tightly over Adam’s cock. “Move your hand with mine,” Adam whispered and began stroking himself, and he took Tommy’s hand with his own. Adam’s hand squeezed tighter around Tommy’s, and he was groaning Tommy’s name. 

Tommy pulled himself closer, pressing his body tight against Adam’s, grinding his cock against Adam’s hip. His own body was aching for friction and he started tugging down his own trousers as best he could with his free hand, needing to feel Adam’s bare flesh against his own. When his cock was free he thrust against the hot skin of Adam’s thigh and moaned at the sensation.

Adam let go of Tommy’s hand and turned over on his side, and when he was facing Tommy he pulled their hips together, drawing a gasp from Tommy as their cocks rubbed together. Tommy’s was smaller and his skin was paler, but when Adam wrapped his hand around them both and started pumping his fist, Tommy could do nothing but cry out and grab onto Adam’s hip for purchase. It was hot and rough and sticky from sweat and the precome that was leaking from both their cocks, and Tommy had never felt anything like it. “Adam…” he whimpered, knowing this was something he had no chance of fighting. 

Adam did not stop; he pressed his lips to Tommy’s ear and urged him over the edge. “Come for me, Tommy.” With a shout Tommy obeyed, bucking helplessly into Adam’s hand as Adam kept milking them both, smearing Tommy’s come down both their shafts. Tommy could still feel his muscles spasming when Adam came, pulling Tommy tight against his body. The hot fluid splashed against his stomach, sliding down toward the grass, but Tommy did not think he could move his body if he tried. They stayed locked that way for a long time, Tommy’s face pressed to Adam’s chest.

“Did I do well, sensei?” Tommy asked finally, his voice small and his words mouthed against Adam’s skin.

Adam lifted Tommy’s chin with a finger and his eyes were blue and sparkling. “Tommy, you are perfect. Everything about you is perfect.”

Tommy just smiled and lay back in the cool grass. 

They cleaned up in the nearby creek and sat down to the lunch of rice and salted fish that Misa had packed for them. Tommy found himself telling Adam about how he and Misa were playmates as children, about how they would climb the trees in Misa’s father’s orchard and play hide-and-seek amidst the rice bushels in Tommy’s father’s storehouse. 

“I did not have such playmates when I was young,” Adam said rather forlornly. “There were no other children in the castle. Our youngest servants were still much older than me. For many years my father was away fighting alongside the Shogun, so my mother had to see to most of the political matters of the territory. I played alone mostly, or read scrolls in the library that were meant to prepare me to become a samurai. Until my apprenticeship began. Then Master Nakata was my companion.”

It struck Tommy then that Adam had spent much of his life lonely. _Even the son of a daimyo has his own burdens to bear._ He was suddenly grateful for his parents, who always had time for him, and the other village children who had been his playmates over the years. “I would be pleased to be your companion now,” Tommy offered quietly. 

Adam was silent for a while, and Tommy was almost afraid that he had said too much, when Adam reached out and took Tommy’s hand in his own. “I would like that too,” Adam said, and Tommy could hear the strain in his voice. Tommy kept his eyes fixed out on the snow-capped peaks of the mountains that rose in the distance, but when Adam moved closer and wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulder, Tommy let himself fall against Adam’s chest and closed his eyes.

  


The next few weeks passed similarly, though the attempts at training became more and more pretentious, more foreplay than education. They spent long hours kissing, or lying together in the sun, or swimming naked in the river, or dragging curious fingers and mouths over stretches of hot skin.

Eventually Adam had to remind them both that they could not be so neglectful of Tommy’s training, though for as eager as Tommy had been to learn swordfighting, he did not mind shirking it to lie wrapped in Adam’s arms. They found a balance, focusing most of the day on attacking and defending, but sneaking in a few intimate moments nonetheless. More than anything, Tommy looked forward to rain, because he could often spend the entire day sprawled on the soft goosedown mattress of Adam’s bed, and much of that time Adam would be stretched out beside him, or above him. Twice the daimyo sent Adam out to address administrative issues in the prefecture. On both trips Tommy accompanied him, and as they camped in the woods at night Tommy savored the chance to sleep pressed to Adam’s warm body. 

It was easy to forget everything that had happened before, how there had been a time when Tommy doubted any of this. Until one morning a several weeks later when he arrived at the castle and Adam was not waiting for him. “Shiro, have you seen Master Lambert?” Tommy asked as he led his horse into the stable. 

Shiro came over, taking the reins from Tommy as he dismounted. “Last night after you left a messenger arrived with a report that the main bridge on the road to Kyoto is about to collapse. The stonemason’s son arrived early this morning, and he and Master Lambert have ridden out to survey the site.”

It took a moment for the memory to seat itself front and center in Tommy’s mind, of that morning more than two months ago when he and Misa snuck into the castle and spied on Adam having sex with the stonemason’s son. But once the image was in his head it was immovable, and it rocked Tommy to the core with jealousy. He could not even chase down with words the frantic, half-formed thoughts that ricocheted in his mind. He stood staring helplessly at the castle gate until Shiro’s warm hand on his shoulder snapped him back to the present.

“Thomas?” Shiro was laughing, “Are you so taken with Master Lambert that you know not what to do without him? There is plenty to do here in the stable, you know.”

Tommy shook the uneasiness from his mind and tried a smile. “Of course, Shiro, I would be happy to help.” 

The bridge on the road to Kyoto was a three-hour ride; it would be late in the day before Adam would return, even with such an early start. Tommy spent the morning in the stable, then joined Shiro and Misa for the midday meal. The pair had been pursuing a budding romance for nearly a month. They were quite happy, stealing kisses behind the stable and smuggling apples from the larder to feed one another in the garden. Tommy was happy for them, and when he learned of their relationship he asked Adam to allow them to eat together. Adam had joked about being glad Misa no longer had an eye for Tommy, and readily obliged Tommy’s request.

Watching their sweet gestures and lingering looks across the table only made Tommy’s chest ache more. _What if Adam is out there with the stonemason’s son, exchanging intimacies like this, or worse?_ He pushed his food around on the terra cotta plate and found his eyes always wandering to the gate, hoping irrationally to see Adam ride through.

He was staring off, almost thinking he heard distant hoof beats, when he realized Misa and Shiro were whispering to one another. She nodded and they both stood. “Shiro must return to the stable, Thomas. Would you help me carry the dishes to the kitchen?”

Tommy agreed, curious as to their secrets but too distracted to pry. When Shiro had gone Tommy absently started collecting plates and followed Misa with an armful back to the kitchen. They were finished quickly and when Tommy set the last pile down next to the washtub, Misa took him by the hand. “Tommy, what is wrong? Shiro said you looked upset all morning, and you barely touched your food. Come, let us walk in the garden and you can tell me.”

Tommy tried to protest but Misa’s grasp was firm and she was dragging him through the corridors of the castle until they emerged into the bright sun in the garden. It was hot and the leaves of the maples were glowing crimson, and Tommy could smell the scent of the junipers on the slight breeze. He closed his eyes and stretched his arms out, hoping the sunlight could warm the cold feeling in his stomach. When he opened his eyes Misa was in front of him with her hands on her hips, her expression a mix of sternness and worry. 

“Misa — ” he started, but she cut him off. 

“I know Master Lambert went off with the stonemason’s son. Is that why you are distraught?”

“Misa,” he said again, but weakly this time, more pleading than protest. “They must survey the damage to the bridge. There is no need for concern.” Hearing himself say it out loud was heartening, and he chanced to look at her. “Right?”

She smiled warmly and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tommy, I see the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him. There is no need for concern.”

Her words gave him the first small bit of comfort he had had since he arrived at the castle that morning, but his jealousy was nonplussed. “But you are the one who told me that you often saw him with lovers in the castle,” Tommy argued, and as he spoke the weight of what he said hit him and he sat down hard on the stone bench. He had not considered before that there were likely many, many men Adam had been with before Tommy. _Maybe I am not enough_ , a shrill voice in his mind spoke surreptitiously. _I am inexperienced and unsure of myself. Maybe he wants more than that._

“Tommy, that was before. I have seen him with no one but you since then, I swear it. He spends all his time with you now. He races eagerly to the gate each morning to see you.”

Tommy tried to hold on to her words, but they were muffled by the memory, replaying itself one more time in his mind, of Adam with the stonemason’s son. He could hear again every moan, every breath, every slap of slick skin against skin. Adam with another man. Adam _fucking_ another man. 

_Like he has never done with me._

"There is nothing to worry about, I know," Tommy said plaintively. But he did _not_ know, he could only hope, and hope was not enough to stop the sick feeling from bubbling in his stomach. "I will be fine, Misa-chan."

She stood and leaned to kiss him briefly on the top of the head. It was almost sisterly, and he had to smile at how comforting it was compared to the awkwardness of their relationship just a few months ago. "Do not stay here sulking too long, Tommy, or I'll be forced to tell Master Lambert that you were lax in his absence," she teased. "And do not worry so much. You must be blind if you cannot see how much he cares for you." 

Misa was already walking back toward the door to the castle when he called to her. She stopped and he came to her side. "How do you know, Misa?" he asked sincerely.

The smile that stretched her lips was melancholic almost, and her tone was serious. "Master Lambert has always been honorable and considerate, but he was not happy. In the time I have served the daimyo I rarely saw him smile, and almost never heard him laugh. But with you he does. Every day." With that she turned and hurried away, her blond hair catching the sunlight. 

He sighed and stared back out at the garden’s liquid flow of stones and sand. He ran through in his mind the questions he still had, the doubts, and wondered if he would have the courage to talk to Adam about them. Adam had encouraged him many times to ask questions, to feel no timidity or embarrassment. _It is not the asking I fear; it is the answer._

Tommy went back to the stable and by late in the day Adam still had not returned. The other stable hands had already gone to the servants’ quarters, and after a while Tommy told Shiro to go as well. "I shall wait for Master Lambert," Tommy said. "Go enjoy your dinner, and spend some time with Misa."

Shiro gave a little bow and collected his things to leave. "Thank you, Thomas."

Tommy wandered aimlessly around the stable, seeking small chores to keep his hands and mind busy. But every minute that passed made him worry more, and guess torturously at what could be keeping Adam so long. Dusk was already dimming the sky when Tommy finally heard the cadence of hoof beats approaching, and he hurried toward the gate to see Adam arrive. 

"Thomas, you are still here? I thought everyone would have left long ago."

"I am the only one left, sensei. I thought I should wait for you," Tommy said quietly and took the reins from Adam. "How is the bridge? Will the repairs be difficult?"

"Not at all," Adam answered as he followed Tommy to the stable. "Kaito, the stonemason's son, believes they can have it repaired before the month is out."

"That is good to hear," Tommy said, hoping Adam did not notice him flinch at the sound of Kaito's name. Tommy tied up the horse and started when he felt Adam's hand on his shoulder. 

"I am sorry that I was called away, Tommy."

Tommy did not turn, and tried to steady his voice in response. "I understand. This was an important duty to attend to."

"I feared I would not see you today," Adam continued, tugging a little on Tommy's shoulder to make him turn and face him. "I am glad you waited for me."

Tommy blushed and would not meet Adam's eyes. "You are?"

"Of course I am," Adam replied, cocking his head slightly. "Tommy, is something wrong?"

Tommy felt panic creeping up his back. He wanted to get away suddenly, but Adam was watching him intently and he could not help himself. "I thought perhaps you would not miss me today, since you had other companionship." Once the words were out the panic took hold firmly in his chest and he could feel his face getting hotter. _Why did I say that? I should leave this be._

"Tommy, you are my apprentice. There is no companionship I would rather have than yours."

"Not even Kaito?" The name felt like poison in his mouth and Tommy spat it out. 

"Tommy, what is wrong?" Adam took him by the chin and tried to force Tommy to meet his eyes, but Tommy wrenched himself away. It took every ounce of strength he had to not run. 

"I know you have been with him before."

"Oh," Adam said; his voice had fallen quiet and resigned. "That was… before... Before you and I were together, Tommy. I had forgotten that you knew."

"I saw you with him, when he came here to help us fix the wall. You fucked him. Were you with him like that today?" Tommy could not stop himself from saying it, but as soon as he did his face burned hot and he was ashamed of how accusatory he sounded. He was terrified too; his mind chimed in with a litany of doubt. _He is going to say yes, you know. He was with that man instead of you._

Adam did not say yes. Instead he pulled Tommy tightly into his arms and held him until Tommy stopped trying to struggle free. When he gave in and pressed his tear-streaked face into Adam's shoulder, Adam ran a hand through Tommy's hair and spoke quietly. "No, Tommy, no. There is no one I would ever let come between us. I promise you."

Tommy stood there for a long while, catching his breath and wiping at his eyes. After a few moments the reality of what he had said began to sink in. “I am so sorry, Adam,” he pleaded. “I should not have said such things, it was terribly disrespectful of me.” He tried to drop to his knees, to beg Adam to forgive his treacherous tongue. But Adam held him up firmly by the shoulders and would not let him go.

“Tommy, I am not angry. I should apologize for leaving you to be so upset. If I had any idea that these thoughts had been on your mind…”

Tommy relaxed and locked his knees to stand on his own again. “We spied on you,” he confessed. “Misa and I. She said she often saw you with other men.”

“Oh.” Adam blushed deeply, and it occurred to Tommy that he had never seen Adam embarrassed before. “I will not say it is untrue. But they were… I never cared for any of them the way I care for you.”

_And yet_. Tommy tried to pull away again. His voice thinned to a whisper. “And yet you would fuck them and not me.”

“Tommy,” Adam said, loud and tugging on Tommy’s arm. “Tommy, listen to me. It is not because I care for you any less.”

“What then? Do you not want that with me?”

“Tommy, please, no. It is not for lack of want, I promise you.”

“Then why?”

“There are… many reasons. Because I hate the thought that it would hurt you. Because I worry you would only say yes to please me. And because I… I am not ready.” 

Tommy wanted to argue the first two points, but the final one confused him. “ _You_ are not ready? I do not understand.”

“There is something I need to do first. Something I have been putting off for a long, long time. I would like it if you would come with me.”

Tommy looked at him. “What is it?”

“The day after I learned of Master Nakata’s death, I left for the Western lands and did not return for a year. I never visited his tomb. For a long time I ran, and made excuses, but the truth is that I could not bring myself to let go.” Adam reached up to brush his thumb over Tommy’s cheek. “I think the time has finally come to pay my respects and move on. Will you come with me?”

The lines of Adam’s face were soft and his eyes were glassy and bright as they caught the lantern’s light. For the first time Tommy felt like Adam needed him. “Of course I will go with you.” 

Tommy pressed himself hard into Adam’s chest, and sighed with relief as Adam’s arms came up around him. After the turbulence of the day, the ground was finally steadying under him. 

As Tommy rode home later, the emotion of the day caught up with him, laying fatigue heavy on his shoulders. But the weariness did not faze him. He thought only of Adam, and no amount of exhaustion could weigh him down.

  


**Chapter 10**

For three years, Adam had known he must one day make this trip. For a year after Master Nakata died, Adam ran from it and from everything that made him even think of his sensei. He lost himself in the transient life of a soldier at war, and time to reflect on his loss was a luxury he could rarely afford.

When he returned from the Western lands there were enough distractions — he had not seen his family in a year, and now that he was a full-fledged samurai, one honored by the Shogun himself, his father insisted that he take more of a role in the administrative affairs of the prefecture. So he surveyed tracts of land, mediated disputes, served as an envoy to other daimyo — whatever his father asked, so long as it kept him busy. 

The longer he put off the journey to Master Nakata’s grave, the more significant the act became in his mind. What would have been a few days’ ride to honor the dead took on a sense of finality he was not ready for. 

Occasionally, Adam’s father would travel to see Lord Takeda, the daimyo Master Nakata had served, about administrative issues concerning trade or travel between the prefectures. Each time, he would ask Adam to accompany him. “We could visit Master Nakata’s tomb on the journey,” his father would gently suggest. Adam always refused, and eventually his father ceased asking. 

When his father first told Adam he would take an apprentice, Lord Lambert brought it up again. “Perhaps, Adam, it is time to make the journey. It might be easier for you to look ahead if you are able to put the past to rest.”

Again, Adam had refused, but his father’s words had come back to haunt him many times. It was when Tommy nearly quit his apprenticeship that Adam decided, finally, he would go. But even so, as the days and weeks progressed, it became easier and easier to put off until tomorrow. Once he did this there would be nothing left to let go of, nothing to hide behind. 

Today, however, it became clear, as he travelled with Kaito, he could delay no longer. They had just finished their examination of the bridge when Kaito laid a hand on his arm. Adam looked up at him, and knew well the look in his eyes. “Adam,” Kaito said, stepping closer, “we need not rush. We could tarry here a while.”

Adam’s reaction was visceral, and stronger than he would have expected. “No!” he said, too loudly, and then again quieter. “No. Kaito, I am sorry. I… I cannot.”

Kaito frowned at him, obviously hurt at the rejection. “I meant no insult.”

“I know, I am sorry,” Adam apologized again; he did not mean to offend. “But Thomas and I… I would not wish to find that he had been with another.”

“I see,” Kaito said. He turned away and mounted his horse. “We should get moving then.”

They rode home in silence, and Adam found his thoughts straying to Tommy. _He will have gone home by the time I return to the castle tonight. Tomorrow I will ask him to go with me._

They returned first to Kaito’s father’s workshop in the village to strategize the repairs to the bridge. The sky was showing the first hints of dusk by the time Adam left, and as he readied his horse, Kaito followed him to the yard and called to him. “I am sorry, Adam, about earlier. I did not mean to be so dour. I knew one day your responsibilities as a samurai would bring an end to this.”

Adam pulled him into an embrace. “Thank you.”

Kaito squeezed him back briefly and then withdrew. “I hope this means you will allow yourself to be happy, Adam.”

Adam let out a wry laugh; Kaito was a good friend. “I hope so too.”

When Adam arrived at the castle, the pleasure of finding Tommy waiting for him was quickly dampened when he realized his apprentice was distraught. It confirmed his decision to make the trip to Master Nakata’s grave, and he asked Tommy right then to accompany him. When Tommy said yes, Adam let out a breath that he felt he had been holding for three long years, and he pulled Tommy into his arms. _It is time to let go of the past._

Two days later they departed, heading east from the castle at midmorning. They rode abreast for much of the journey, and to pass the time Adam told stories of his early days as an apprentice. “You have it easy, Tommy. Master Nakata had me out for hours every day to train me. Now that there are no wars to fight, I do not have to work you so hard.”

By twilight Adam’s stories had grown more nostalgic: the day Master Nakata presented him with his first real katana; the feast held in his honor by Lord Takeda for his bravery; the first true battle Adam ever fought, and how Master Nakata had held him afterward and quieted his fears. They were memories that sat untouched for a long time. Adam had been afraid of the pain they would cause, but he was finding that the recollections brought more nostalgia than sadness, and having Tommy by his side was calming, reassuring.

They camped that night in the forest, and Tommy was quiet but pressed himself, warm and comforting, against Adam’s side as they sat by the small fire. The farther they travelled, the closer Adam came to what he had been avoiding so long; now that he was heading toward it, it was becoming real, inescapable, and he was trying not to feel trapped by it. Tommy, for his part, seemed to sense Adam's growing reticence. After they ate, Tommy spread their blankets out together and motioned Adam to lie down. “It has been a long day,” Tommy said softly, helping Adam remove his boots as he sat on the ground. “We could just sleep, if you would prefer.”

  


They awoke to a cool morning and a light fog over the valley. Adam rode ahead, picking out their path. By the time the sun had burned the mist away, Adam could see the stretch of Master Nakata’s estate in the distance. _Not for three long years have I come back to this place. So little has changed, yet nothing is the same._

Master Nakata’s younger brother tended the property, and when they arrived, he came out to greet them. “I am glad you have come, Master Lambert. I have been waiting.”

When Adam introduced Tommy, Master Nakata’s brother gave the boy a long, appraising look before smiling at Adam and offering them tea. They sat in the main hall of the house and Adam looked out over the meadow that stretched out wide, remembering all the hours spent there with his sensei. He did not know how much time passed, but the sun was blazing bright before he finally turned to Master Nakata’s brother. “Will you show us the way?”

They walked out from the rear of the house and down a cobbled stone walkway that lead to a dirt path up the hillside. “The shrine is just at the crest of the hill,” Master Nakata’s brother said simply before turning back to the house. Adam started forward, listening for the reassuring sound of Tommy’s footsteps behind him. He tried to slow his pace, but in no time the tomb came into sight, a neat structure of stone with a steel plaque mounted to its façade bearing the name of the samurai buried there and the years of his birth and death.

Adam felt himself pulled toward it, and he dropped to his knees in front of the pile of rocks, running his fingers lightly over the metal plate. “Sensei…” The word drifted from his lips. He stayed there a long time, and only when he realized his legs were sore from kneeling on the hard ground did he finally stand, eyes still fixed to the tomb. 

“Adam,” he heard softly behind him. He had nearly forgotten Tommy was there, waiting quietly all this time. 

“Master Nakata was a great man, Tommy. I wish you could have known him.”

“He trained you to be a great samurai, and a great teacher, and for that I will be forever grateful to him.”

Adam smiled to himself. “As will I. I only regret that I could not have been there with him at the end, fighting beside him. I wanted to go with him, but I was no longer his apprentice by then. I had my own responsibility to serve my daimyo.”

“Still, you must be proud of him,” Tommy offered. “It is the greatest desire of a samurai to die honorably in battle, in the service of his lord.”

“I was proud, and I was devastated. The day after I learned of his death, I went to the Shogun and begged to be sent into battle. Part of me hoped to meet the same fate as my sensei. For a year I fought in the Western lands, and I did not return until the pain had started to fade. I never wanted to hurt that badly again, so I swore I would never care for anyone so deeply. I doubted I even could.”

Adam turned to look at Tommy, who stood watching him closely. “You have made me see I was wrong,” Adam continued. “With you, I am not afraid. Fear is not the way of the samurai.”

Tommy stepped forward and put his hand gently on Adam’s arm. “Often what is good for the apprentice is also good for the master.”

Adam nodded and pulled Tommy into his arms. “It is time to go.”

After the midday meal, they took their leave. As Tommy saddled their horses for the ride, Master Nakata’s brother pulled Adam aside. “I know you miss him greatly, but I am glad you were finally able to come. He would be very proud of you. You have become a great samurai, and a great sensei.” They looked to where Tommy stood waiting by the gate. “He looks at you the way you looked at my brother, you know.” With that, he embraced Adam briefly and said farewell.

Adam led them north up into the foothills of the mountains before heading west toward home. They rode quietly; the day had been too heavy for idle talk. Their path began to ascend, and the creek they had been riding beside swelled into a rushing river in the ravine below. “There is a Buddhist shrine up in the cliffs,” Adam said as the sky began to grow dim. “It was a favorite place of mine when I was young. We can camp there tonight. It looks as though we may see a little rain.”

By sunset they reached the shrine, perched at the edge of a cropping of trees a short distance from the cliff’s edge, and they paused to take in the ruby red line of the horizon stretched out over the hills and forests and rocks and water. “It is beautiful here,” Tommy said. 

“This was my sanctuary,” Adam told him, looking down to the river below. “I lived with Master Nakata for nearly four years. When I wanted to be alone, I came here. Decades ago monks built this place as a refuge for travelers on the road, but few people ever come this way now. There is a hearth inside. We can light a fire and enjoy our supper.”

“Let me,” Tommy said, taking the reins of both their horses. “Rest. Enjoy the view. I will attend to our things.”

Adam wanted to protest, but it would do them both some measure of good, for Adam to have a few moments alone, and for Tommy to help how he could. _He is always willing. I remember being that eager once._

There was a large rock at the edge of the cliff where Adam used to sit while he meditated; it was the same as it had been, though perhaps a little more moss grew at its base. He climbed up and surveyed the vista, picking out Lord Takeda’s castle in the distance. Everything looked exactly as it had the last time he sat here. 

But as he looked closer, he noticed a pile of rocks that had slid down the cliff wall and shifted the bank of the river a little. Further down the path a large evergreen had fallen. It had been lying there for quite some time, its trunk already splitting and weeds sprouting from its remains. _Even the earth follows it course and weathers its changes._

Adam turned back to the shrine to see smoke already trickling from its chimney. The breeze picked up and a few raindrops began to splatter his skin. The air had grown cooler as the sun dipped below the horizon, and it was enough to usher in a mild storm. Adam stood quickly and headed inside.

The shrine itself was a sturdy wooden building. The outer walls were carved with images and sayings of Buddha. The terra cotta roof was pointed and left a small, shielded opening for smoke from the hearth to escape. Inside sat a large cast iron statute of Buddha, and the far wall held several shelves of candles. A small bronze chest by the entrance awaited donations from travelers.

When Adam pulled open the creaking wooden door, he found Tommy on his knees, arranging their blankets on the floor. The rice balls and dried fish Master Nakata’s brother had given them were set out. The fire had already warmed the room, and Tommy had even lit a few candles along the wall. Dark was nigh, but the flames washed the walls with warm, burnt-orange light. They ate quietly, and Adam began to feel some sense of peacefulness budding within him. He relished the thought of spending the night here, in this place where he had always come to find solace, with Tommy tucked against him.

After they ate Tommy stood and packed away their provisions. The monks kept a stoneware pitcher and bowl as a washbasin for travelers, and when he was finished Tommy brought these along with a soft cloth. He set the bowl on the floor next to Adam and looked up with such concern. “Give me your hands,” he said softly, and as Adam held his out, Tommy took them and guided them over the bowl. Tommy lifted the pitcher and poured water over Adam’s hands, then wiped them dry. When he was finished he washed his own hands and then returned the vessels to their stand. He came back carrying a small ceramic jar and knelt down beside Adam with it.

“The monks must have been here recently,” Tommy said, taking Adam’s right hand again and lifting the container to pour a small pool of oil into Adam’s palm. “They left anointing oil at the altar. I thought this might soothe you.”

Adam sat quietly, fascinated as Tommy took his hand and began to smear the oil with his thumbs. Their hands were rough from labor, but the oil smoothed that coarseness to the feel of silk. Tommy massaged Adam’s hand gently, kneading the thick flesh at the base of his palm, running long lines up the thin bones of his fingers. The oil began to warm with the friction of their skin and Adam was surprised at how much tension he could feel melting away through this simple act. After Tommy finished he took Adam’s left hand and repeated the treatment, easing Adam’s worries out through firm strokes of his fingers. Adam could not take his eyes from Tommy’s face as he worked. The boy’s lips were parted and glistening, and his brow was tight with concentration. The sash on his tunic had loosened and the pale, smooth skin of his chest glowed in the firelight. 

Tommy was still running his hands over Adam’s when Adam reached up and brushed his fingertips along Tommy’s cheek. Tommy looked up with wide eyes. “Tell me what else I can do for you, sensei.”

Adam’s fingers had left a shiny smudge of oil on Tommy’s cheek, and it caught the firelight. He brought his hand up to leave a matching streak on Tommy’s other cheek, and then leaned down to kiss him.

He could feel the eagerness in Tommy’s kiss, the way he pushed up into it, the quickness with which he parted his lips. Just as quickly Tommy pulled back, blushing. “Adam,” he said tentatively, “we need not do this. Maybe you need more time…”

Adam lifted Tommy’s chin to force their eyes to meet. “I have already taken too much time.”

He kissed Tommy again, deep and slow and insistent. When he pulled back this time the flush on Tommy’s skin was evident even in the warm glow of the firelight. He tugged at the sash of Tommy’s tunic, sliding his hands up inside to push off the garment and drag his hands over Tommy’s skin. Tommy’s chest rose and fell in a rapid pulse, his breath shallow with anticipation. His lips were swollen, his eyes shining and his muscles tense. He was waiting. _He has been waiting. Stop making him wait._

Adam eased Tommy back onto the blankets, marveling at how readily Tommy moved under his hands, how there was trepidation in his eyes but he did not tremble. He simply sighed as Adam ran his oil-softened hands over the ridges of Tommy’s ribs, down the smooth, taut muscles of his stomach. When Adam reached the waist of Tommy’s trousers, he untied the belt and shoved them off.

The sight of Tommy stretched out, pale skin painted the color of summer sunset by the flickering fire, sent a pang of desire through Adam. He tossed aside his own garments and lay alongside Tommy, the heat of Tommy’s body nearly crackling against his skin. Tommy turned on his side to face Adam and drew his body up close, sliding his arm around Adam’s waist, burying his head in Adam’s neck, nudging his hard cock into the groove of Adam’s hip.

Adam slid his hand down Tommy’s back, cupping his ass and tugging him closer, savoring Tommy’s groan at the increased pressure. Tommy started thrusting his hips forward, seeking friction, gripping Adam tighter and breathing hot against Adam’s throat. Adam shifted his hand, drifting his fingers over the crack of Tommy’s ass, feeling Tommy shudder at the sensation. He pushed further, and when he grazed the hot soft skin of Tommy’s hole, Tommy bucked forward roughly and let out a sharp moan. 

Adam pulled his hands away and sat up long enough to grab the container of oil that still sat on the ground nearby. When he turned back Tommy was watching him with dark eyes, and when he saw the jar in Adam’s hand he caught his lower lip in his teeth. He looked on hungrily as Adam poured the slick oil on his fingers, and he spread his legs eagerly for what was coming next. 

Opening Tommy up, touching him where he was so smooth and delicate, was always an exercise in restraint. The first time, they had been in Adam’s room, stretched out and naked much like this while a thunderstorm wreaked havoc against the hillside. Tommy had been nervous and breathless, so Adam took his time, urging Tommy to relax, running his hand through Tommy’s hair. “Let go,” he instructed, over and over in gentle tones, “let go for me.” And all the while Adam could not stop thinking about how tight and hot and silky Tommy felt inside, how badly he wanted to feel that heat encasing his cock. But it was far, far too soon.

Since then, Tommy had learned to take Adam’s fingers easily, to feel pleasure from it, to let himself go. The first time Adam made him come just from that, he had to fight the brutal desire to take Tommy right there, to hold him down and push inside him. But Adam held himself back. Even after Tommy asked for it, after he swore he wanted it, the hard cold rock in Adam chest — fear, he knew it was fear — stopped him, held him back from this one final intimacy they had yet to share.

Now here they were, two of Adam’s fingers sliding, rubbing, thrusting into Tommy, and Tommy groaning and driving himself down onto Adam’s hand like it was not enough. Tommy’s cock was hard and leaking against his stomach and his hands clenched tight, one on Adam’s arm and the other in the blankets underneath him. The fire snapped and hissed, and Adam could hear the rain slapping down on the roof above. Over all of it, his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He leaned in to kiss Tommy’s slack mouth, and it took a moment for Tommy to respond but when he did he slid his hand up into Adam’s hair. 

“Adam,” he said, breathing heavy, holding on tight, hips still flexing, fingers and thighs twitching against Adam’s skin. “Adam, Adam…”

“Tommy,” Adam said softly. _It is time_. “Tommy, I want to make love to you.”

Tommy’s mouth was on his instantly, kissing hard and rough. “Please,” he said, almost a whisper. “Adam, please.”

“I do not want to hurt you. You must stop me if I do.” But already Adam was withdrawing his fingers, picking up the oil jar and pouring a generous amount into his palm. He was hard, throbbing, and his nerves practically screamed at the contact as he slicked the cool oil over the hot skin of his cock. Tommy watched every movement, his skin flushed pink and his whole body taut. Adam moved between his thighs, drizzling more oil over Tommy’s hole, then leaned forward to brush Tommy’s hair aside and lay one more kiss on his lips. “Do not let me hurt you,” he said one last time, and then Tommy cried out as Adam pushed inside him.

Adam waited, motionless, calming them both by humming soft reassurances in Tommy’s ear and stroking a hand gently over his hip. “Relax,” he repeated in between his own rapid breaths, trying to still his body from pushing further, faster, wanting to bury himself inside Tommy, needing to, over and over. After a minute, Adam brushed a thumb over Tommy’s cheek. “Should I stop?”

“No,” Tommy said, not even hesitating though his breath was ragged and his voice was strained. “Just… gently.”

Adam kissed him again. “Anything for you. Anything.”

Adam moved slowly, shifting, pushing, struggling, soothing, until he was buried deep and Tommy’s breathing was less frantic, less pained. It almost would have been enough, just lying here, Tommy hot and tight around him, the race of Tommy’s heartbeat echoing through his body. But he needed Tommy to enjoy this, to have no room for regrets.

Adam rocked his hips slightly, the friction a little smoother now, the furrow of Tommy’s brow lessened. He did it again, and this time Tommy gasped and snapped his hips and looked up at Adam with wide eyes. “There,” Adam whispered, “that is how it should feel.”

He was gentle, as gentle as he could manage while watching Tommy slowly fall apart under him. When he slid a hand between them to wrap it around Tommy's stiff flesh, Tommy cried out, gripping at Adam’s shoulders and rocking up into the touch. 

“You are so good for me, Tommy,” Adam said roughly, trying hard to slow his hips as Tommy writhed underneath him. _Why did I fight this so long?_

Tommy moaned as he wrapped his arms around Adam’s back, and Adam could feel him grow still and tense as he dug in his fingers and pressed his head back against the blanket. Adam’s hand was still smooth with oil and he stroked Tommy’s cock faster, feeling Tommy’s body growing hotter and tighter around his cock. When he came his hips snapped forward, burying Adam deep inside him. His orgasm tore a cry from his throat and pushed his fingers sharply into Adam’s back. He was shaking and his heart was pounding so hard in his chest Adam could feel it. Adam stroked him through the shock of it, pressing his mouth to Tommy’s ear. “I have you, my love.”

_My love._ The words had simply fallen from his lips, with no thought to stop them. Adam wrapped his arms under Tommy’s back and pulled him up, cradling Tommy tightly to his chest and burying his face in Tommy’s hair. He held Tommy tightly and thrust roughly, erratically, until his own orgasm wracked his body, all the while whispering, “my love, my love.”

Tommy clung to him until Adam slowly withdrew. He took the cloth from the washstand and gently cleaned Tommy’s body, dropping kisses along his stomach as he wiped away the come and oil and sweat. When he was finished he pulled Tommy close, wrapping the blanket around them both. 

Tommy turned to look up at Adam, his eyes shining darkly in flickering light. “You said ‘my love.’” His voice was soft and questioning.

Adam cupped Tommy’s face in his hand “I have not known love all this time since I lost my sensei. I became so accustomed to thinking of love in the past that I was too blind to see it standing right in front of me. I am sorry it took me so long to see how much I need you.” 

They kissed gently, then Tommy turned on his side, his back pressed to Adam’s chest. Adam snaked his arms around Tommy and settled in on the blanket behind him. After a moment, Tommy spoke. “My father once told me that he knew he should marry my mother because she made him feel as though all would be right with the world. If that is love, then that is what I feel when I am with you.”

Adam’s heart tripped its pace and he curled his body closer around Tommy’s. “Goodnight, my love.”

Tommy was silent, but he slid his hand up over Adam’s and laced their fingers together.

  


**Chapter 11**

Tommy had done his best to stay in the background while Adam visited his sensei’s grave. He listened when Adam talked, followed where Adam led, and fought the urge to go to him and wrap his arms around him. _I will be here when he needs me._

Now that they were settled warmly by the smoldering fire, Tommy had a harder time staying away; he wanted to be close, to offer some kind of comfort. Adam had spent much of the day wringing his hands, or clenching them into fists, so Tommy brought the washbowl to him and gently washed his hands. When he was finished it struck him to fetch the oil he had seen on the altar, and try to push some of the tension out with his own fingers.

Tommy had meant the act to be chaste, to give solace; instead he found himself growing aroused as he ran his slick hands over Adam’s, imagining those fingers wrapped around his cock, or pressed inside him. He caught himself rocking forward as he rubbed Adam’s skin, seeking the sensation with his whole body. He meant to pull away once he finished, to give Adam space, but instead Adam pulled him into a kiss and all he could think was how he wanted more.

At last, Adam gave it to him.

  


Tommy woke early in the morning, the dawning sun only barely brightening the shrine. The air was heavy with dampness, a chilly legacy from the previous night’s rain. But the heat of Adam’s body was steady against his back, and the weight of Adam’s arm was heavy on his hip. He was stiff, so he tried to stretch out without disturbing Adam’s sleep. As he pushed his muscles taut he felt the strain in his thighs, the soreness between them. The memory of last night flushed his skin hot — the image of Adam over him, the feel of Adam inside him, the words they spoke after. He suddenly felt exposed, acutely aware of his nakedness. He leaned up on one elbow and reached forward toward his tunic lying on the floor a few feet away. He moved slowly but as he did he felt Adam stir, felt him slide his hand up Tommy’s chest and pull him back down.

“Good morning,” Adam rumbled gently against his ear. Adam shifted forward, pressing his chest against the cold flat plane of Tommy’s back. “You are cold…” he began, and the words faded out as he pressed his mouth against the tendons in Tommy’s neck, planting warm kisses against his skin. Despite the anxiety that still sat in his gut Tommy could not help but turn and stretch out his throat in further invitation.

“How do you feel?” Adam asked, sliding his hand between their bodies. When his fingers skimmed the tender skin around Tommy’s hole, Tommy could not help but whimper. He was sore, yes, but wet too, still slick from the night before, and it would be so easy for Adam to slide back inside him. 

“Adam,” he whined, half desperation and half discomfort, his body twitching with the urge to pull away yet wanting too to melt back into Adam’s touch. 

It was as if Adam knew. “Shhh,” he whispered against Tommy’s neck, and shifted his hand instead to wrap around Tommy’s hard cock. Tommy found release quickly with Adam’s body bare against his own, murmuring endearments, calling Tommy “my beautiful boy,” catching his earlobe in his teeth. 

After, Adam sent him to wash in the nearby stream. Tommy did so quickly, the water stinging cold on his skin. When he returned to the shrine Adam had started a small fire and handed Tommy a hot cup of tea and a rice ball. He took both gratefully, and by the time he finished the stiffness was fading from his limbs.

As they rode for home Adam spoke at length about his youth and his time with his sensei when he lived in this prefecture. Tommy was quiet, not wanting to give voice to his anxieties; there was a palpable shift between them, it was clear, and though it was what Tommy had wanted, had begged for, he felt vulnerable now, exposed in a way he had not foreseen. But as the sun rose in the sky, as Tommy let his mind carry on the sound of Adam’s voice, on the rustle of the wind and the music of the birds, he began to relax. 

When they reached the crossroads it was near dusk, and Tommy had expected that Adam would send him along home from here. His heart sank at the thought but it was only logical, there was no sense in Tommy returning to the castle with Adam only to ride home late in the dark. When Adam drew up his horse Tommy came to a stop beside him, his fingers unnaturally tight on the reins.

“Tommy,” Adam said, turning to him, and Tommy’s heart caught at the tender look on Adam’s face, the way the fading light turned his eyes a stormy blue. “If you would prefer to return to your farm this evening, then it would be best for us to part ways here. But I would like it if you would come back with me and stay the night.”

He did not voice his acceptance, but merely spurred his horse in the direction of the castle.

Dinner at the castle was nothing like the simple meals of rice and fish Tommy was accustomed to at home. Tonight there was pheasant, roasted turnips, and sweet bean cakes for dessert. Adam poured him sake, and though he drank only a little its warmth in his veins soothed his tense body. After the meal, a servant showed Tommy to the bath; it felt almost sinful, soaking so long in the steaming water. When he finally dragged himself from the tub, clean garments awaited him. He dressed and slipped quietly through the halls to Adam’s chamber.

“Those garments were mine when I was young,” Adam said as Tommy slid the door closed behind him. The room was dark save an oil lantern, which Adam extinguished as they crawled into bed. 

“This is far more luxury than I am used to on the farm,” Tommy said as he pulled the luxurious blankets around them both. 

“You could stay here all the time,” Adam replied as he pulled Tommy close. 

Tommy looked at him with surprise. “I could?”

“It is more than a day’s journey to Master Nakata’s estate. He moved here to train me at first, and when I turned fourteen I returned there to live with him until I came of age. Your farm is far closer, but if your family would agree, you could come to stay here.”

Tommy buried his face against Adam’s chest to hide how much the idea thrilled him, to awake in the morning not to the chilly stiffness of his bed in the farmhouse but to this, feathered mattresses and the reassuring warmth of Adam beside him. But it would mean leaving his home, his family. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he pulled away. “What of my parents? What of my responsibilities at the farm?”

Adam brushed his fingers lightly over Tommy’s cheek. “Do not fret; it is a choice you need not make for quite some time. I am merely being selfish by wanting you here with me.”

“You would want me to live here with you?” Tommy asked, still seeking reassurance even with Adam’s arms around him.

“I meant every word I said last night, Tommy. I need you.” Adam leaned in and brushed his lips lightly over Tommy’s. “I love you.”

They shared tender, slow kisses until the exhaustion of their journey finally weighed them too far down. Tommy’s dreams were hazy, laced with vivid colors and distant laughter. When he woke he felt strange; nothing had changed, but he seemed to notice things that had escaped him before: the cadence of the sparrows’ songs, the way the silk curtains glowed in the sunlight, the softness of Adam’s face in sleep that made him look younger than his years. Tommy thought back to the day he nearly abandoned his apprenticeship, and how he had come to realize he must give Adam everything. He saw now he had barely begun to understand the depth of that commitment.

  


Tommy’s birthday fell at the beginning of summer, just as the days began to take on an edge of heat and the nights were no longer chilly enough to warrant a fire. A week before he turned thirteen, a man clad in the bright reds and golds of the Shogun’s emissaries rode through the castle gates. Tommy had been at the forge, watching Adam sharpen his swords, when Shiro came running up. “Master Lambert,” Shiro cried, “a messenger from the Shogun has arrived!”

Adam quickly wiped and sheathed his blade and dashed for the castle, and Tommy, with no other directive, hurried after him. In the main hall the messenger stood talking to the daimyo, who looked up when Adam entered. “Son, I am glad you are here. This is Ryu. He brings word from the Shogun. Come, we must speak.” 

Lord Lambert held a scroll, tied with red and gold silk, and it was this scrap of parchment which held Tommy’s attention. It had been nearly a full year since he began his apprenticeship, and never before had the Shogun sent any kind of missive. There was a palpable tremor of excitement throughout the castle, but something about the arrival of this messenger seemed ominous to Tommy. He eyed the Shogun’s rider more thoroughly; he had a pleasant face and behaved with all proper deference to the daimyo. He did not look like a harbinger of ill tidings, and yet Tommy could not shake the unease that settled over him.

Adam sent Tommy to the kitchen, to carry word that a guest would dine with the daimyo this evening, and the cook should prepare a meal fit for a representative of the Shogun. Tommy assisted where he could, carrying cast iron kettles and fetching water from the well, all the while imagining what might be written on that scroll. He had learned little thus far in the ways of politics, but he knew enough to fear that the Shogun was going to war again and wanted his loyal samurai to fight by his side. He knew enough, too, to be certain that if Adam would go to war, he would leave Tommy behind. 

Nearly two hours had passed and Tommy had twisted himself into knots, so much so that when Adam called for him he nearly dropped the cord of firewood he was carrying. But Adam was smiling when Tommy ran to him, and that smile was always a quick and sure way to assuage Tommy’s fears. “I have marvelous news,” Adam said, and his words, his eyes — his whole face, in fact — were bright. “Come to the garden and I shall tell you.”

Tommy wanted to grab Adam’s hand, to beg his sensei to tell him now, but he had learned restraint well these past few months. Training with Adam was a constant battle between duty and desire. They had spent more time than was prudent in the warmth of Adam’s bed during the winter, but once the spring thaw began Adam rejoined his training with zeal, and they spent most of their time of late practicing sword skills out in the field. Tommy balled his hands into fists and followed silently as Adam led them along the castle wall.

“How would you like to accompany me to Edo?” Adam asked once he had sat Tommy down on the stone bench in the garden. The question was barely out of Adam’s mouth before Tommy sprang to his feet again.

“Do you mean it?” His eyes were so wide he felt they might roll out of their sockets, and his heart was racing like a horse at full gallop.

“The Shogun has asked each daimyo to come to Edo for a council in a fortnight’s time. Because of my experience fighting in the Western lands, and as I am the daimyo’s son and successor, Lord Tokugawa asked that I go in my father’s stead. I would like very much if you would come with me.”

Tommy could barely speak, so he flung himself into Adam’s arms instead.

The following morning Adam arrived at Tommy’s farm and spoke with his parents. Tommy sat quietly at the table as his father listened to Adam’s request and his mother served tea. When Adam finished, Tommy’s father was beaming. “I always knew my son was destined for great things! Tell me, Master Lambert, will he meet Lord Tokugawa himself?”

Adam chuckled and cast a fond look at Tommy. “I will do everything in my power to arrange it.”

  


On Tommy’s birthday, he spent the first half of the day at home with his parents. When the afternoon grew late, he took his pack, mounted his horse and headed to the castle. At the evening meal he was given the seat of honor next to Lord Lambert, who poured sake for Tommy and told him stories of fighting alongside the Shogun. After he ate, he spent indulgently long soaking in the bath, and returned to Adam’s chamber eager to climb under the blankets with his sensei.

When he slid the door open, he found a small table in the center of the room with a long, narrow, ornately lacquered box atop it. Adam was sitting by the window, but he stood when Tommy entered. “What is this?” Tommy asked, his gaze drawn to the shine of the lacquer and the band of gold inlaid in the box’s lid. 

“A gift,” Adam said, rising. “For your birthday, but for the journey as well. Go on, open it.”

Tommy traced a finger along the cool, smooth edge of the box, trying to draw out the sweet sting of anticipation, but he could barely contain his curiosity. He lifted the lid gingerly, only a few inches, and bent down to peer inside. It took a moment, in the low light from the candles in the room, for Tommy to recognize what lay within. When he did, he pulled back with a gasp, letting the lid snap shut with a sharp clap, and looked up at Adam in surprise. “These are… mine?” he stuttered. “You think I am ready?”

Adam laughed and stepped behind Tommy, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Of course I think you are ready. You are too precious to me to put you in danger by giving you your swords too early, Tommy. Take them, feel how they mold to your hand. A samurai’s swords are an extension of himself. You must know every inch of these blades if they are to conform to your will.”

Tommy removed the lid of the box and set it aside. The two swords inside were cushioned in white silk; their blades nearly glowed, as if they took every flicker of light in the room and magnified it in their flawless, tempered steel. The hilts were lacquered blue and banded in silver, and when he dared to wrap his fingers around the smaller wakizashi it was as if it were carved for his hand alone. “They are beautiful,” he whispered, making no attempt to keep the awe from his voice.

“They were my first swords as an apprentice,” Adam said from some far-off place behind him. “I have wanted to give them to you for some time now, but I thought I should wait. This trip to Edo was the sign I had been waiting for. No samurai should travel the road to the capital without his swords. For the last week, after you left the castle in the evenings, I have gone to the forge to sharpen and polish the blades so they would be ready for you.”

Tommy laid the dagger against the pristine silk with trembling hands before turning to Adam. “They were your blades,” he said with reverence. “Adam, I do not deserve — ”

“Hush,” Adam said sharply, and in an instant he was on his knees before Tommy, one hand firm on his apprentice’s shoulder, and Tommy lost his words under the intensity of Adam’s gaze. “You have earned the privilege of carrying swords. I ought to have had new ones forged for you, but instead I was selfish and sentimental and wanted you to have mine. Humor me, and take them. Please?”

Adam’s eyes wavered, for only a moment but Tommy saw it, and he let himself fall against Adam, let his arms come up around Adam’s neck. “Nothing would please me more than to carry your swords, sensei,” he whispered, and then he was crushing his mouth to Adam’s and his hands were shaking with the need to touch him, to take everything Adam wanted to give. 

Tommy yielded easily as Adam pushed him down on the bed and pulled his robes open. He was happy, eager for their trip, but relaxed too from his bath and from the sake he’d drunk at dinner. In no time he was gasping for air and arching against Adam. “What do you want, my love?” Adam murmured against his lips, pulling away when Tommy tried to turn the contact into a kiss.

“Please,” Tommy whined, wrapping his thigh around Adam’s to try to pull their bodies close, willing Adam to know, the way Adam always knew, what he wanted. “You,” he panted, tugging Adam down on top of him. “I want you.”

“It is your birthday,” Adam said, breaking up the words with kisses pressed against Tommy’s cheek. “I would give you anything you ask.”

In the morning, Tommy would strap his new swords to his belt and they would take the road to Edo to meet with the Shogun. _What more could I possibly want?_ “Make love to me,” Tommy whispered, burying his face against Adam’s neck. 

Adam worked Tommy open slowly, until Tommy was desperate and shaking. “I love you,” Adam said softly as he pushed inside, and Tommy clung to him, moaning and clawing at Adam’s back, and forgot everything else.

  


In the morning they woke with the sun and headed southeast, following the Goruku River as it skirted the edge of the mountains until they came to the Nakasendo Road. “If you ride west on this road for two days, you will come to Kyoto,” Adam said as they turned east onto the road and proceeded at a steady clip. The ride through the foothills had been slow going, as the paths were sometimes steep and often treacherous with fallen rocks and branches, and the horses seemed grateful for the reprieve on their hooves. “East, it cuts through the Kiso Mountains and in four days will take us all the way to Edo.”

Tommy was not sure whether to be impressed or disappointed by the Nakasendo. He had never seen one the great roads that carried travelers from Edo to Kyoto, but he had expected something more than this trampled-hard dirt path. Still, it was wide, enough for two large carts to pass one another, and trailed off far into the distance until it was hidden by trees. Tommy was left with the distinct feeling that the road did not end in Edo, but went on forever. 

When they came to the first station, however, Tommy was certainly awed. There were 69 checkpoints along the Nakasendo, built to provide respite to weary travelers but also to allow the Shogun to monitor travel throughout the country. This station, Akasaka, lay in a fertile valley and had prospered rapidly in the twelve years since the Shogun had ordered the establishment of these posts. Before the buildings even came into sight Tommy could smell the aroma of grilled fish and vegetables drifting down the road in invitation. There was a smithy, a tea house, and a few small shops peddling everything from kimonos to medicines to straw hats to keep the sun from an ill-prepared traveler’s eyes. “This place is nearly as large as our village,” Tommy said, trying to take it all in. A number of men sat on wooden benches outside the inn, drinking sake and playing at dice. 

“Would you like to stay here tonight, at the inn?” Adam asked, and when Tommy finally tore his eyes from the bustle of the station he saw that Adam was smiling at him. “I thought we might camp while the weather holds, but this is the first time you have travelled the Nakasendo, and tomorrow’s ride will be difficult. There is no better way to end the first day of a long journey than with a soft bed and a hot meal.”

Tommy couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face. “Really?”

Adam laughed and drew to a stop. Tommy followed suit and when they had dismounted Adam gave him the reins of both horses while he unfastened their packs. “The stable is that last building, just past the shop. I will acquire a room for the night.”

An hour later, when they both had washed themselves free of the dust of the road and settled down to a table inside the inn, Adam leaned over and brushed the tips of his fingers across the back of Tommy’s hand. “The innkeeper told me there are minstrels passing through who will come to entertain the guests during dinner.”

No sooner had two steaming bowls of rice topped with grilled fish been set in front of them than Tommy heard the first strains of music. He was captivated by the musicians — two playing lutes and one with cymbals and a tambourine — who sang of great battles and distant lands over the sea. Adam ordered sake and passed a cup of the warm liquid to Tommy, who sipped at it slowly and savored the burn down his throat. The scent of herbed tobacco filled the air as the patrons settled back to listen to the minstrels, and the smoke and the alcohol left Tommy loose and slack. He tipped toward Adam, resting his shoulder against his sensei’s, and a moment later Adam slid an arm around Tommy’s back. It was like a dream, blurred and warm, and perhaps Tommy did doze off for a short while, for he started a little when he felt Adam’s lips press to his ear. “Shall we go to bed?”

In their room, under the cool crisp sheets, Adam kissed him until they both fell asleep.

  


The next leg of their journey held the roughest terrain, with the road carved into the side of the Kisos. Here and there along the trail one side of the pass would drop away into a craggy ravine, with pebbles kicked up by their horses’ hooves skittering into the darkness below. At times the road would narrow and they would ride one in front of the other. They trudged along, slower even than they needed to, but Tommy felt no impetus for haste, nor did he sense it from Adam; it was beautiful here in a sparse, primitive way. The rocks were cold, grey and foreboding; jagged evergreens clawed their way out of the cracks in the stone, and overhead the sky was pale, almost white, and streaked with thin icy clouds. As they rode Tommy closed his eyes, trusting his horse to follow Adam’s, and tried to let the peacefulness of their surroundings flow into him. The excitement of the prior day had distracted him from his worries, but here in the quiet, unforgiving passes of the mountain road, there was little to stop him from growing anxious over what would happen in Edo. The thin air and heavy mood made it difficult to speak, and the narrow path even more so; few words passed between them. They came across few travelers, and from each the greeting was polite and unspoken.

By the time the sun approached the horizon, the next post station was within reach, but they chose to camp in the woods, just out of sight of the road. This section of the Nakasendo that hugged the mountains so closely was rarely plagued by robbers, and those desperate enough to scavenge here would likely steer clear of a samurai and his apprentice. When they lay down in the nest of blankets Tommy had set out, he wrapped his arms around Adam and pressed his face into Adam’s neck. Adam kissed the top of his head and stroked a hand gently along his back for several minutes, and Tommy could feel the beginnings of the pull of sleep when Adam spoke, quietly. “So what is it that has been troubling you all day?”

Tommy shifted, but Adam would not let him pull away. He did not want to struggle, so he relaxed back against Adam and sighed. “I worry about what the Shogun wants. I fear you will be called away to war, and I will be left behind.”

There was a long silence, and then Adam took a deep breath. “I do not think the Shogun seeks more fighting.”

“But if he does?”

“It would not be my choice to leave you behind, Tommy. You are not old enough, and you have not had enough training. The generals would not let you fight.”

Tommy’s hands clenched into fists against Adam’s chest. “I do not want to fight. But I do not want to be apart from you.”

Adam cupped Tommy’s chin in one hand and pulled back enough to look at Tommy. His eyes were dark and bore deeply into Tommy. “I would return,” he said solemnly.

“You cannot — ” Tommy began, because Adam could not promise that, not in a war, but Adam cut him off with a kiss and held Tommy firmly until he stopped trying to break away to finish his protest. But even after Tommy went pliant in his arms, Adam’s kisses stayed rough, and it took Tommy some time to realize that it was fear — Adam was afraid too — fueling Adam’s fervor. The knowledge both reassured Tommy and reignited his own desperation, and he began tugging at Adam’s shoulders, wanting Adam on top of him, wanting the solace of Adam’s weight holding him down. When Adam pressed inside him, Tommy was on his knees, clawing at the ground and whimpering “please, please,” over and over as Adam thrust into him.

The morning sun was unexpectedly warm and seemed to burn away the chill that had settled over them. Everything seemed lighter: the sky, the mood, the weight on Tommy’s mind. There was nothing for it but to trust that Adam was right, that there would be no war. When he woke, Tommy said a brief prayer to the fates before he roused Adam and they set out again.

They travelled in good spirits, with Adam telling of his last excursion along the Nakasendo and Tommy happy to listen, happy that the mood of the day before seemed to be gone. By tomorrow afternoon they would be in Edo, a city he always dreamed he might see, and his enthusiasm for the trip returned with each mile that fell away under the hooves of their horses.

Within a few hours they emerged from the shadow of the mountains. Here the road was wider and more heavily travelled with each post station they passed. There were merchants towing their carts of wares, messengers, entertainers and, most interesting to Tommy, other samurai. “He,” Adam would say as they came upon an elegantly outfitted warrior, “wears a kimono made by the famous silk merchant Azuma in Edo. See the vibrant blues, and the elaborate tie on his sash? No other merchant has those marks. I met him once, and he offered to make me a robe with those very colors, but I was about to depart to the West and had no use for such a garment. Perhaps I will visit him while we are in the city.” 

The day was full of these anecdotes, to which Tommy listened both raptly and contentedly. When he asked an eager question Adam was ready with a patient answer, and when he slowed his pace to take in the gilt beauty of a shrine or the laughing chaos of a group of small children playing in the courtyard of a post station’s marketplace, Adam lingered until Tommy’s curiosity was satisfied.

They stayed in the post town of Matsuida, which they came to as dusk settled. The last stretch of road leading to the station was flanked on either side by rows of great cedar trees, and their spice-warm scent in the air after the excitement of the day left Tommy drowsy and heavy-limbed. As Adam slid into bed behind him, pulling him into his arms and tugging the sheet over them both, Tommy had no time to think of his worries, or to think at all, before sleep took him.

He woke to one of the inn’s servants bringing in a steaming kettle for tea. Adam sat at the small table in the room, already dressed for the day, and looked over as Tommy stirred. “In just a few short hours we will be in Edo,” he said brightly as he poured hot water into his tea. “The city is like nothing you have ever seen.”

Indeed, from the moment the gold-tipped turrets of the main tower of Edo Castle came into view over the horizon, Tommy was enthralled. The city seemed to reach out to them, drawing them forward, revealing itself over the crests of hills and through stands of trees until it loomed over them, a physical manifestation of the Shogun’s influence and power. Closer still, and Tommy could make out scores of men patrolling the walls and milling about in the courtyards. “This is the largest castle in all of Japan,” Adam said when the full splendor of the castle was spread in clear view before them as they descended the last slope toward the city. Tommy merely nodded, speechless, his eyes wide at so much unimaginable grandeur.

The city itself unfurled around the castle with long avenues lined with homes, shops, restaurants, inns, theaters and businesses. Throngs of people bustled in the streets, some on horses, others carrying bushels of rice or buckets of water. Ladies dressed in vibrant kimonos of pastel silks with dizzying patterns of chrysanthemums or cherry blossoms strolled with parasols tipped on their shoulders to block the afternoon sun. Bureaucrats wearing the red of the Shogun walked haughtily from shop to shop as ingratiating merchants rushed out to meet them and bow in deference. This was nothing like the village back home. This was nothing like Lord Lambert’s castle. Tommy would never have believed such scope, such splendor, had he not seen it with his own eyes. When they reached the first gate of the castle, they dismounted; Adam laid a reassuring hand on Tommy’s shoulder as he presented their invitation to the gate wardens and they were motioned to enter. “Come, Tommy,” Adam said as he ushered him through the hulking stone gate, as tall as five men and more than half as wide. “Let us go meet the Shogun.”

Once they reached the inner citadel of the castle, they were shown to their quarters. “Is the Shogun providing accommodations for all the daimyo coming to the council?” Tommy asked the young servant boy who showed them the way.

“Of course,” the boy responded, sounding amused. “The castle has more than enough rooms to house the visiting daimyo.”

“How many daimyo will be attending?” Adam asked as he stepped into the room, looking obviously impressed; it was far more elegantly appointed than his own chambers at Lord Lambert’s castle.

“More than two hundred,” the boy replied as he turned to leave. “Including their retinues, there will be nearly a thousand guests here at the castle for the next several days.” With that he bowed low in farewell and departed.

“A thousand?” Tommy said in disbelief, staring at the door the boy had closed as he left.

“Welcome to Edo,” Adam laughed.

They were summoned a short time later to the great hall in the Shogun’s residence, where Lord Tokugawa would receive his guests during the feast that had been prepared in their honor. At the front of the room, raised up on a dais, was a long, rectangular table dressed in red and yellow cloth and spilling over with candles, goblets and serving dishes plated in gold and silver and crusted with gems. In the center of it was a man who was certainly Lord Tokugawa, dressed in a heavy black kimono with a lining of gold that peeked out from his sleeves and his collar. There was a gravity to him; people simply drifted into his orbit, and as they drew close they seemed to shrink in size next to him. Surrounding him were a number of elegantly dressed men whom Tommy surmised were either his bodyguards or his close advisors. In front of the Shogun’s table sat a contingent of a dozen minstrels with drums, flutes, lyres and other instruments, chanting softly to the swaying rhythm they played. All through the room servants carried trays piled high with meat and fish, fruits and vegetables, even such delicacies as nuts and cheeses. Tommy had barely begun his meal, his plate piled high with an intimidating array of food, when a young man dressed in the distinctive red robes of the Shogun’s attendants came to them. “Good evening, sirs. The Shogun requests an audience with you.”

The servant led the way, with Adam following and Tommy meekly bringing up the rear. There was no one in all of Japan more famous nor more feared than Lord Ieyasu Tokugawa; Tommy prayed he need only smile and stay quiet, or perhaps chime in with a simple, “yes, my lord.”

“Adam!” the Shogun bellowed when they were still several feet away, startling Tommy into nearly colliding with one of the servers. “Welcome, my friend!”

Adam hurried forward and knelt before the Shogun, bowing briefly before returning the greeting. “It is good to see you again, my Lord. Peace suits you well!”

“Peace suits all of Japan, Adam. That is why we are here, to determine how we can make this peace last long after I am gone. Tell me, how is your father?”

“Quite well, though less sprightly now than you likely remember him,” Adam said. “He appreciates you asking for me in his stead so that he need not weary himself on the road.”

“Both you and your father have fought bravely for me. Seeing either of you is a treat! And who is this young man who accompanies you?” At that, the Shogun’s eyes fell on Tommy, and the weight of that gaze sent him bowing low.

“This is my apprentice, Thomas,” Adam said, and the note of pride in his voice cut through Tommy’s fear and gave him the courage to lift his head and meet the Shogun’s eyes. “He has been with me for nearly a year now. He is a very skilled hunter, and his aptitude for learning, whether the sword or the scroll, is impressive.”

“Then he is worthy of your teaching,” the Shogun said, smiling now. “Thomas, how would you like to serve as a page during the council?”

Tommy had no idea what such a thing would entail, but it did not matter. He could not tell the Shogun no. “I would be honored, my Lord,” he managed to say without stammering much. The Shogun and Adam spoke briefly for another minute, and then Tommy was staggering back to their seats, with Adam’s hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him steady.

“The Shogun seems to like you,” Adam said, smiling and offering a cupful of sake when were seated at their table again. Tommy took it and swallowed a large mouthful, wincing but grateful for the burn.

“What does a page do?” Tommy choked out around the crackle in his throat.

“I am not certain, but we will find out tomorrow,” Adam said cheerfully. “Whatever it is, I am sure you will do splendidly!” Tommy simply nodded, glad for Adam’s confidence in him. He had learned, under Adam’s tutelage, to curtail his self-doubt. This, however, was the Shogun. He sipped at his sake again and tried to relax.

Time seemed to accelerate as the evening progressed, with more food and music and dancing, and by the time the meal was over Tommy began to forget his concerns, unable to help his captivation with the light and the sounds and the flavors all spread out before him. More than once he caught himself grinning widely at Adam. “Shall we go to bed?” Adam asked once they made it, with only a few wrong turns, back to their room.

“Yes,” Tommy said, breathless as he pressed himself against Adam and tugged at his clothes. “Take me to bed.”

  


**Chapter 12**

Watching Tommy soak in all that was Edo — the noisy crowds, the massiveness of the castle, the imposing presence of the Shogun — brought Adam unexpected delight, manifested in secret smiles that Adam did his best to keep Tommy from seeing. He did not want Tommy to think he was patronizing him; he simply remembered the thrill of coming to Edo for the first time, and was glad to see Tommy experience that same joy. 

He did not say so for fear of putting pressure on Tommy, but the Shogun asking him to act as a page during the council was a significant honor. And though the offer was a reflection of the Shogun’s appreciation of the fighting Adam and his father had done at Lord Tokugawa’s side, it brought Adam a great deal of pride nonetheless. Further, serving as a page would allow Tommy to be present for the council and watch the political process at work.

The next morning, he and Tommy made their way to the meeting chambers early to ensure Tommy knew his duties, but the other pages quickly took him under their wing and hurried him away to help prepare as the daimyo began to arrive, until Lord Tokugawa entered and the attendees fell into a hush waiting for him to begin.

“Good morning,” the Shogun bellowed as he took his place at the head of the room. “I thank you all for coming to Edo. Greetings to those of you I already call my friends, as well as those whose acquaintance I have not yet had the pleasure of making. My intention is to see far more of all of you in the future.” With no further pleasantries, he announced his plan: _sankin kotai_ , alternate attendance. “Japan is already beginning to thrive now that we have stopped fighting with one another. To maintain this peace and encourage this prosperity, I would like you all to spend every other year in Edo here with me.”

The Shogun paused, and a palpable silence fell over the room. By requiring each of the nation’s more than two hundred daimyo to spend alternate years in the capital, he would very effectively weaken their strength in their home prefectures. It would be nearly impossible to mount any sort of rebellion when a feudal lord was away so often, and it was clear from the Shogun’s tone that this was not an invitation but a demand. Daimyo who refused would most certainly be labeled as resisters and treated — militarily — as such. Two of the pages pulled aside the large wall hanging that adorned the wall behind the Shogun to reveal a map of the city. “Our goal in this council,” Lord Tokugawa continued when it was clear that no one would protest, “is to apportion each of you property in the city and determine the logistics of building your residences here.”

As the council progressed, the daimyo seemed to grow more resigned to the idea. Many of them had spent their entire lives battling one another for small gains in land and influence. Though capitulating to the power of the Shogun was antithetical to their principles, none could contend that they were not better off since the Shogun’s victories had put an end to their armed squabbles. Adam, to his surprise, found himself called to the Shogun’s table quite frequently, often spending long stretches with the Shogun’s closest advisors, discussing his experiences in the Western lands and giving his opinion on ways to keep those who had rebelled mollified under the Shogun’s rule.

The council ended early on the first day, with the Shogun wisely giving the daimyo time to digest his demands and work their frustrations out amongst themselves. That night, Adam took Tommy out into the city. Edo at night was breathtaking, with glowing lanterns in a rainbow of colors illuminating the streets. They bought gifts — Tommy chose a hairpin for his mother, and Adam selected a scroll of the sayings of Zhu Xi for his father — and walked along the waterfront. “Adam,” Tommy spoke up after a while, “are you going to come live in Edo?” He was staring out at the reflection of the lights in the water, and Adam could see by the set of his shoulders that he was tense.

“I do not know,” Adam said. “I am not certain what my father would wish, and I am not certain whether the Shogun would allow me to come in his stead.” Tommy looked down at his feet, shifting his weight, and a pang struck Adam at how nervous the boy seemed. “If I did, it would be only for a year, and then I would return to the prefecture.”

“I would not accompany you?” Tommy’s voice did not waver, but Adam could hear the strain in it.

“What about your family?” Adam asked. “You likely would not see them for a year.”

Tommy sighed. “It would only be for a year.”

Adam did not want to belabor the subject when it was quite possible that this would never come to pass. Tommy was on edge, and Adam wanted to soothe him. “If I do in fact come to Edo in my father’s place, I will speak to your parents about you accompanying me. I will make no promises, but I will at least discuss it.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, turning and starting in the direction of the castle. Adam came up alongside him and rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder as they walked.

  


The following afternoon the daimyo were milling about in the castle’s rock garden during a recess when a familiar voice called out. “Adam! Good to see you!” It belonged to a man Adam had not seen in some years.

“Lord Takeda,” Adam said warmly, bowing low to the daimyo to whom his sensei had sworn loyalty. Lord Takeda had attended Adam’s coming of age ceremony when he was named a full samurai. It had been their last meeting.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Lord Takeda said. “I had expected to see your father here.”

“I am here as his representative,” Adam said. “I was eager to visit the city again, and the Shogun wanted me to share what I had seen in the Western lands.”

“It is just as well,” Lord Takeda replied. “It will not be long before you can assume lordship of the prefecture. Better to be on the cusp of all this, ready for the changes that lie ahead.” Adam nodded, and they stood in silence for a moment before Lord Takeda spoke again. “Master Nakata would be pleased to see you here.”

Hearing his sensei’s name still touched off an ache deep in Adam’s chest. “He would?” 

“He was grateful to train the son of a daimyo, he told me once,” Lord Takeda said. “Even a decade ago Nakata saw that the time of the samurai was coming to an end. He was glad your bloodline guaranteed you a place that did not depend on war.”

“The changes the Shogun is making will certainly stifle any more major battles,” Adam said. “Though as yet, no daimyo seem to be dismissing their samurai, at least not in any great numbers.”

“No,” Lord Takeda agreed. “Not yet. Though I think in ten years’ time we will see that change.”

Just then the gong was rung to call the daimyo back to the council chamber. Lord Takeda bid Adam goodbye and headed inside. For a long moment Adam watched him walk away and wondered, with a wave of something that felt like guilt washing over him, what kind of future he was preparing Tommy for.

  


The council proceeded with as much decorum as could be expected when two hundred men were being asked, effectively, to surrender a significant amount of their power to a single ruler. There were heated arguments; several daimyo stormed out abruptly, and at one point Adam feared the entire hall was going to break out into a riot when tea was served nearly twenty minutes late. But progress was made: maps were drawn and schedules were created, and often Adam found himself helping the Shogun and his advisors work out the minor details of various compromises. It was engaging in a way he never felt when he would mediate two farmers squabbling over the orchard that spanned their properties; far more grave consequences were at stake here. This was a critical step in bringing lasting peace to the whole country, and though Adam was a samurai who lived by his sword, even he knew the goal of fighting was victory — to end the battle for good.

On the final day of the council, Adam was unexpectedly summoned to the garden. When he arrived, he found the Shogun and three of the advisors with whom Adam had worked closely over the last few days. “My lords,” Adam said, surprised to find them here waiting for him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

“Adam, my friend,” the Shogun began. “You have been most helpful in crafting this agreement with the daimyo. I thank you for that. This council has progressed more smoothly than I had expected.”

Adam bowed humbly. “My duty is to serve you, my lord.”

Lord Tokugawa motioned them to one of the stone benches in the garden. “How would you like to serve as one of my advisors? Only with a great deal of diplomacy will Japan remain at peace. Your skills would be most valuable.”

“It would be an honor, my lord,” Adam managed, his heart racing at the offer, at the idea.

“You would have your own chambers in the castle. I would exempt your father from the sankin kotai and allow him to stay in his prefecture as long as you remain in my service.” The Shogun paused, but when Adam responded with nothing but silence, he continued. “I know this is no small thing I ask of you. Return home and discuss it with your father. If you believe this obligation is one you cannot fulfill, I will understand. You both have done much for me already.” 

Adam finally spurred himself into speech. “It has been our privilege to fight for you, my lord. I thank you for the generous offer, and for the time to consider it. I will discuss it with my father and give you my decision swiftly.” The Shogun and his advisors departed, leaving Adam to stare up at the open sky. 

A year ago, Adam would not have thought twice, would have accepted the Shogun’s proposition on the spot with unrestrained enthusiasm. A year ago, he was restless and felt that helping his father run the prefecture was an exercise in biding his time, waiting for something big to come along and give him a sense of purpose that he had not had since returning from the Western lands. But once Tommy had become his apprentice, everything had changed. 

Tommy came up to him soon after he returned to the council chamber. “They said you were called away to a private meeting with the Shogun,” Tommy said in a hushed voice. 

_If I tell him now, he will panic. He will want to know what will happen to him if I accept the Shogun's offer, but I do not have an answer._ Lord Takeda’s words yesterday still weighed heavily on Adam; he had no idea what was the best decision here, but he could not shake the feeling that no choice would be right for them both, so for the moment he said nothing. “He wanted to thank me for my help with the negotiations,” Adam said stiffly. “It was a very kind gesture on his part.”

“But well deserved,” Tommy replied, and made no further mention of it that evening. When the final agreements had been signed, the council concluded with another feast, and it was late before they retired to their room for their last night in Edo.

Tommy was awake early and had already packed most of their things by the time Adam rose. They were both reluctant to leave the city, and so it was with little ceremony that they set out on the road home. They conversed sparsely until they stopped to eat and rest the horses at midday. “I have had little chance to ask about your page duties,” Adam said as Tommy unpacked the rice. “Did you enjoy the experience?”

“Oh yes,” Tommy replied eagerly. “I learned much from the other pages. I also met many daimyo; when I told them I was your apprentice, they all remarked on your bravery. You seem to have quite a reputation. Some even speculated that the Shogun might offer you a role as an advisor. I know pride is a fault, but I could not help but be proud that they would think so highly of you, sensei.”

Perhaps it was Adam’s own pride that made him speak up then. “He did,” Adam said quietly, and then again, louder, with the conviction of a confession one has resigned oneself to making. “The Shogun did ask me to become an advisor. I did not… I wanted to think more about it before I told you.” He flicked his eyes up to find Tommy watching him with an unreadable expression. “I do not know whether I will accept. I must speak to my father.”

“Of course you must accept!” Tommy said with unexpected enthusiasm. “Think of it! You would be one of Lord Tokugawa’s most trusted companions. We would live in the castle and the whole of Edo would be at our doorstep!”

“Tommy,” Adam said, his brow creasing, “I could not bring you with me.” That was the crux of it, out now between them. It was what Adam had been reluctant to face.

Tommy’s expression tumbled into distress. “Oh… I did not realize… If the Shogun said you could not — ”

“No, Tommy, this is not the Shogun’s determination, it is mine. I would not take you from your family. I would not take you from your home. Even for a year, I did not want to uproot you from that. This… this is permanent. This, I will not consider.” Adam’s tone was more stern than he meant it to be, but as he spoke he felt himself growing hot with anger. He did not want to make this choice. He resented the Shogun for putting him in this position.

“But what of my training?” There was still disbelief in Tommy’s voice.

“Becoming a samurai will not be a boon to you, Tommy. This policy of the Shogun’s to force the daimyo to live in Edo, it is going to bring an end to all the fighting. If there are no wars, there is no need for samurai. You were better off on your farm, before you ever met me.” 

“You think after everything — after the year we spent together — that I never should have left the farm? You think going back there is what is best for me?” Tommy was incredulous, nearly accusatory, and his vehemence reminded Adam, rather unexpectedly, of their very first meeting, when Adam riled Tommy to anger just to see how he would react. It was impossible to ignore, the difference between the boy he met a year ago and the young man standing before him now. 

“I am sorry,” Adam said. “My intent was not to belittle the time we have spent together. I am in your debt for all you have given me. But I cannot in good conscience take you away with me. It is one thing to shirk your training for an afternoon to keep you in my bed, but this would be blatantly selfish.”

“It is not selfish to promise to train me and then walk away?” Tommy’s voice was bitter, and he would not look at Adam. 

“If I worked for the Shogun I would have little time for your training,” Adam pleaded, feeling pained now at how angry Tommy was. “If you are certain you wish to continue your apprenticeship, I could speak to my father and see about finding another samurai who could train you.”

“And hand off my training again,” Tommy said spitefully, then stood and began collecting their things. “When I first came to you, you would send me to work with Shiro and I wondered if you even wanted me as your apprentice. But I did not… I did not think that was still how you felt.”

“Tommy, please believe that I do not want to be apart from you. I can refuse the Shogun’s offer, but I still think that becoming a samurai is not what is best for you. You will have a far more stable future taking over the farm from your father.”

“No, you must do as the Shogun asks, Adam. You cannot refuse him on my account. Besides, you do not want to.” Tommy sounded disappointed. Defeated. 

“You will see that this is for the best,” Adam said as earnestly as he could manage. 

“Do you remember the day I quit my apprenticeship and you came after me, gave me your wakizashi and begged me to come back?” Tommy asked. “I did not think about fighting battles or how stable my future would be. I came back because I wanted to be with you, Adam. And because I thought you wanted to be with me. If you left me behind to go to battle, at least I would understand. At least I could hope you would come back for me. Here I had been afraid that war would come between us, but in fact it is peace that would take you from me.”

Tommy was angrily stalking about the clearing, picking up the few items left on the ground. Adam wanted to hold Tommy still until he would see Adam’s reasoning, until he had to admit that Adam was right. But this was not a battle he could fight with conviction, and there was no equitable solution he could see. He thought he should let their tempers cool for a short while, so rather than pushing the issue he rose to help clean up their things, but Tommy rather coldly shooed him away. “No, let me. In fact, you should ride on ahead. I will clean up here and catch up in a short while.”

Tommy was asking for time alone, and Adam could not bring himself to deny the request, even though the thought of walking away was agonizing. “Very well,” Adam said. “The next post station is five kilometers down the road. I will wait for you there.”

Tommy nodded but did not speak, did not even turn toward him. He came up behind Tommy and set a hand gently on his shoulder, needing one small moment of contact. The tremor that ran through Tommy sparked a sharp sickness in his gut, and it was clear in that moment how much this hurt Tommy. “I do love you, Tommy. I do not want us to be apart. But the world is changing. I cannot tear you away from your family to train for a way of life that may be obsolete before you even come of age. On the farm you have a future; with me… there is nothing I can guarantee you. No teacher with any honor would ask a student to choose such a fruitless path.”

Tommy shrugged out from under Adam’s hand, and after a few moments longer Adam relented at last and went to his horse, forcing himself to leave Tommy be. Nonetheless he rode slowly, giving Tommy ample time to catch up. He caught himself looking back over his shoulder repeatedly, listening too closely for the sound of an approaching horse, and when he admitted at last that Tommy was not rushing after him, a sense of loneliness settled over him that was jarring in its unfamiliarity. Of late, he had come to forget the coldness of being on his own and hollowness that comes with having no one with whom to share a story or a meal or a bed.

But he could not go back to Tommy — that too would be selfish. Tommy needed time to see that this was the right choice. What would Tommy even do in Edo? Adam could not imagine him being content with a life of running messages and keeping logs. Neither Tommy’s father nor Adam’s had agreed to that arrangement, and Tommy would not either once he was less clouded by emotion. 

Yes, Tommy would come to his senses and he would forgive Adam. They would enjoy the last few months they had together, and then Adam would leave for Edo and Tommy would stay in the prefecture. Adam would find him a new sensei, though the idea of Tommy belonging to anyone else made Adam’s insides twist. They could send letters, and visit. He would not let Tommy forget that he loved him. Though theirs had been brief, there was no bond like that between a samurai and his apprentice.

Adam wondered how he would have reacted had Master Nakata ended their relationship over something like this. Could he have walked away? _I would have been heard all the way in China with how loud and long I would have protested._

He was laughing at himself, at what a headstrong child he would have acted, when the arrow struck him in the arm. His horse reared up in fright, and immediately he dismounted and drew his sword. He was scanning the trees that lined the road here for any sign of his attacker when another blow landed, this time on the back of the head, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.

  


Adam woke to someone patting his face repeatedly and somewhere he heard Tommy’s voice, though he could not make out the words. His head throbbed but he forced himself to open his eyes, because hearing Tommy’s voice was not enough, he needed to see him. The hand that had been tapping at his cheek ran soothingly over his forehead, and in a few seconds Tommy came into focus, his eyes intent. “Adam? How badly are you hurt?”

Adam let his eyes slide closed in the hope of quieting the pounding in his head. “You came back,” he murmured, and he felt his face pull into a smile.

“Adam, can you stand up? Your arm is bleeding badly. We need to get you to the post station and find a healer.” As Tommy spoke, Adam heard the ripping of cloth. He had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting as Tommy pulled the arrow from the meat of his right arm with a sharp, swift jerk and began wrapping the wound with bandages. The pain cut through some of the fog in Adam’s mind, enough to remind him to ascertain whether they were still in danger here. 

“Tommy, what happened?”

“I was coming up the road when I heard you shout. I rode as fast as I could, and found you lying in the road. The robbers were going through your packs, but as soon as they saw me they ran off. I suppose a samurai apprentice bearing down on them at full gallop with his katana drawn caught them by surprise,” Tommy chuckled. “I saw only two, but I do not know if there were more. We should move. They may return.”

Adam moved as quickly as he was able, letting Tommy pull him up, help him onto his horse, lead him down the road. He managed to stay alert as they rode the few remaining kilometers to the post station, but once the station workers saw the blood on him they came running, and he gave himself over to their ministrations. 

It was night when he awoke on a soft mattress in a room lit by lanterns. He ached, dully in his head and sharply in his arm, but less so than before. He moved to sit and right away Tommy was at his side, though Adam had not realized he was in the room until a beat before Tommy’s hand swept against his back to help him up.

“How are you feeling?” Tommy said gently. Once Adam was sitting Tommy did not take his hand away.

“Better than before. Better than I would have if you had not come.”

“I never should have sent you off alone,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “This would not have happened if I had not lost my temper. I am sorry, Adam.”

Adam took Tommy’s hand in his. “You saved my life. Do not be sorry. I am the one who should apologize. I am the one who is breaking our bond. Please understand, Tommy, this is not what I want.”

Tommy tried to pull away, but Adam held his grip. “Then why are you leaving me? Neither of us wish this. How can you think this is what is best?”

“I lived with Master Nakata until I turned eighteen and became a samurai myself. I did not want to leave him. He had been my whole life since I began my training with him as a boy. He told me, ‘Adam, you and I have different paths to travel. They have run alongside one another for many years now, and for that I am both lucky and grateful. But here our paths diverge. The greatest sin a master can commit is to hold his pupil back from following his own destiny.’”

“But what if you are wrong?” Tommy asked, sorrow heavy in his voice. “Adam, I have learned and seen and come to understand more in the last year with you than I have in my whole life. I can do things I never would have thought myself capable of. How can I go back to harvesting rice when I have served as a page in the court of the Shogun? You are a great samurai, Adam, and that means far more than being a great warrior. You have the respect of every daimyo in that council, even of the Shogun himself. That is what you are meant to teach me. _That_ is my destiny. It does not matter to me whether there are battles to fight. Becoming a samurai is not what is best for me, you are right. I think _you_ are what is best for me.”

Tommy’s words gave Adam pause. “But what about your training? What about your future?”

“I do not care!” Tommy shouted, exasperated, but then took a deep breath and spoke more softly. “You know, there are schools in Edo where I could learn calligraphy or music. Perhaps I could serve in the castle in some small capacity. It would make no difference to me, as long as I could be with you.”

“I could not ask you to do that. To spend your days at something that would not make you happy.” Adam’s protest, however, carried little conviction. Tommy had done quite well in his page duties during the council. Maybe his future was not as a warrior or as a farmer, but as something else entirely.

“That is what you are asking me to do now,” Tommy countered. “Let me at least come to the city with you for a few months. If, after that, you still believe I belong back on the farm, then I will go.”

“I do not know,” Adam said hesitantly. It was a tempting plan, but he needed more time to consider, and preferably when his head was not still throbbing. “I would have to speak with my father, and with yours.”

“I could ask them myself,” Tommy said eagerly. “I would make them see that this is for the best.”

Adam could not help but laugh. “I believe you would. You would win over everyone in the prefecture if you had to.”

Tommy smiled at him then, and as he looked into Tommy’s warm eyes Adam felt hopeful. He pictured for a moment the two of them together, walking through the gardens of Edo Castle. It could work. They loved one another, and they could make it work.

Tommy gingerly wrapped his arms around Adam and tucked himself in close. “No samurai, even an apprentice, would not fight for that which is most precious to him,” Tommy said as Adam dropped a kiss on his forehead. “My sensei taught me that.”

**Author's Note:**

> The longest damn thing I ever wrote, both in word count and in time from start to finish. This fic signifies closure in a lot of ways for me, so I humbly beg your indulgence for what is something of an absurdly late swan song. I know this is unforgivable underage fic, but fwiw, the relationship between a samurai and his young male apprentice is historically accurate and known as wakashudo. I did take a few liberties with timelines, and my geography may have some flaws, but the basis here is the unification of feudal Japan under Shogun Ieyasu Tokugawa. Written (well, finished) for the [lambliffbigbang.](http://lambliffbigbang.livejournal.com/)  
> I lay this at the feet of my beta adamaddict_rh. I told her about this fic the day we met, and I never would have finished this if it weren’t for her. I am forever in debt to her for her patience, her time, her support and her whip-cracking. I am an idiot and she stands by me <333  
> So much love to my artist, xsilverdreamsx, who really outdid herself and made art that is absolutely perfect and gorgeous. Please go to her [journal](http://xsilverdreamsx.livejournal.com/21970.html) and shower her with praise!


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